


Put a spell on me

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Cat snuggles, F/M, Fluff, I don't care if one of them is a cat it still counts, Sharing a Bed, Some angst, cat!Karen, not crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: After Karen Page discovers that her boss is engaged in illegal activity, she thinks her life is over.When a lonely, bitter cat meets a couple of lawyers who are willing to look past the obvious, she may be able to get her life back again...





	Put a spell on me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little out of the ordinary for me, I've never attempted to incorporate an element of pure fantasy in my fics before. The setting is our everyday, modern world, only there's magic. The location is left vague, and I called the suburb they're in the Grove, probably short for [local tree] Grove, because it's the most generic name I could think of.
> 
> I haven't built up any kind of detailed theory about how magic works--it works the way it needs to work, for the purposes of the plot, that's all. I just wanted to write a story where Karen gets turned into a cat, and Matt breaks the spell, in an AU setting where they don't know each other and meet for the first time while she's a cat. I thought it would just be a quick one-shot, and did _not_ expect it to grow into the second-longest thing I've ever done!
> 
> The show gave us zero personal details about McClintock, Karen's boss, as far as I can remember, (including his first name), so I made him up as I wanted him to be.
> 
> Also, I know the premise sounds kind of cracky, but this is not a crack fic. It is a serious story, although it does contain ample amounts of fluff, mostly in the form of cat-snuggles.
> 
> All business practices, legal matters and police procedures are made up; I hope they seem plausible.
> 
> Content warning for an animal being mistreated. Nothing very graphic, but I'll put a detailed note at the end for anyone who is concerned.

Transforming humans into animals was strictly illegal. Everyone knew that. It was one of the most serious of all magical crimes, only slightly less serious than murder.

These days, though, human transformation simply didn’t happen any more—everyone knew that, too. There hadn’t been a case in nearly a hundred years. Generations ago, someone had had the bright idea of recruiting mages to work on the police force, and the use of magic for criminal purposes had declined dramatically. Only a small fraction of the population had magical abilities, and only a fraction of _those_ chose to use their abilities to do harm, but those few could do a lot of damage if they weren't stopped.

Police mages were highly trained in the detection of illegal spells, such as transformation, and in analyzing and breaking them. Any spell could be broken, in theory; magic required balance, and a spell wouldn’t work unless it included the conditions for its undoing. But those conditions could be made as complicated as the mage chose, and mages throughout history had tried to make their spells as nearly unbreakable as possible, by loading them with complexity.

Unfortunately for them, the more convoluted a spell was, the easier it turned out to be for another mage to detect. As the police refined their analysis techniques, more and more mages were caught and convicted. Those who practiced human enchantments like transformation were in a bind—too complex a spell would get them caught, but too simple a spell was too easily broken, leaving the victim free to denounce the mage to the authorities. Over time, transformation became too risky to be worth it, until the practice appeared to be completely eradicated.

But appearances could be deceiving, as Karen Page learned to her sorrow.

She worked as secretary to a highly-placed executive at the Union Allied construction company. She knew that her boss was a mage, it had been a required disclosure during the hiring process. But she had thought nothing of it. Mages were mostly law-abiding people, just like the general population. The fact that they possessed abilities that the general population lacked was not, in her opinion, any reason to distrust or fear them. And McClintock, her boss, was an avuncular middle-aged man who fairly radiated trustworthiness and reliability. She trusted her instincts and took the job, and never had any cause to regret the decision, until the day she mistakenly received an email that should have gone straight to him.

He was working from home that day, accompanied by Karen, as he sometimes did when he wasn’t needed in the office to attend meetings or handle anything in person.

He had a large, imposing house, almost a mansion, and in the years Karen had worked for him she had become very familiar with the library. It was a pleasant, spacious room with large windows, comfortable furniture, and tall bookcases filled with hundreds of books. She secretly suspected that most of the books were for show—all the ones she had ever seen him use were in one bookcase, near the windows. But if he wanted to present the image of a wealthy, cultured man’s library, it was a harmless enough affectation. And it did seem to impress his colleagues, whenever they came to the house.

Today, though, McClintock and Karen worked alone. His assistant, Vladimir (rather vaguely described as “personal security”) was somewhere in the house, but they had the library to themselves. The large table they sat at was scattered with papers, and they each had a laptop in front of them. McClintock would come and go, leaving the room now and then to make a private phone call, or to discuss some domestic matter with his household staff.

He was just on his way out, when Karen saw a new message in her inbox and opened it. She glanced at the contents and frowned.

“Sir, I’ve got an email here that I think was supposed to go to you,” she said.

He turned back at the door. “I shouldn’t wonder,” he replied, “with all the new assistants being trained in this month. Forward it to me, I’ll look at it when I get back.” He left.

Karen looked back to her screen and was about to do as he said…but her eye was caught by a notation in the document before her. It was an address she recognized, an apartment building downtown that had recently suffered a complete structural collapse. The building had fallen in on itself, killing many of the tenants. There had been extensive news coverage of the disaster, which had been completely unexpected, and completely devastating to the property owner.

According to this email, Union Allied intended to buy the property. She read further. There was what looked like a business model attached, some sort of five-year plan…she frowned as she read it, suspicion growing in her mind. Translating the dry, technical language into ordinary English, it seemed to say that McClintock had used magic to weaken the building’s structural supports, in an act of deliberate sabotage.

She stared at the screen, her blood chilling. Could it be true? Could her kindly, charming boss have been responsible for all those deaths? And there, looking at the expense column, she saw that he had been paid a bonus for his services. This was a company policy, not simply an act by one individual. She shivered, feeling sick.

There were other addresses, listed as prior acquisitions. She opened a browser and began to search. And sure enough, each building had suffered an unexpected accident—a boiler explosion here, a fire caused by faulty wiring there. In each case, Union Allied had been able to buy up the properties cheaply and easily following the disaster, the previous owners embroiled in liability proceedings and in need of quick cash.

Engrossed by her research, appalled by what she had found, she never heard McClintock re-enter the library. Her back was toward the door, and he came in silently, coming to stand behind her and look over her shoulder at her laptop screen. She jumped and nearly screamed when he spoke suddenly.

“Karen, I believe I asked you to forward that email to me,” he said, sounding faintly reproachful, as if _she_ were the one in the wrong. Her heart plummeted down into her stomach. “It really is…unfortunate…that you didn’t do as I asked.”

“Unfortunate?” she repeated, shaking with anger and disbelief. “How many people have you killed? Is there more, besides what’s listed here?”

“Calm yourself, Karen,” he said, taking out his phone and tapping in a quick sequence. “I’ve killed no one. I have simply weakened certain elements in a few buildings. It’s no fault of mine that people were in the buildings when those weakened elements finally gave way. Let’s not be melodramatic.”

Her eyes darted around the room. He was between her and the door, but the windows opened onto a terrace…

He followed her glance and continued talking, as she eased her chair back from the table and rose to her feet.

“And no, there are no others, as of yet. It doesn’t do to have such incidents happen too frequently. People might begin to wonder if there was a connection. I’ve been careful to weaken different elements each time, so as not to create a pattern, but some people have regrettably suspicious minds.” He gave her an ironic smile, edged with a dark hint of…something…that made fear prickle down her spine. She had to get out. If only she had run at once, before he came back, as soon as she had realized what she was reading!

McClintock moved around the table to stand in front of the windows, blocking one exit. She spun back toward the door, but her heart sank even further at the sight of Vladimir in the doorway. She was trapped.

“You called for me, sir?” he said.

“Ah, Vladimir, good. Yes, I need you here. Some idiot in admin has sent Miss Page a document that should have come to me, and she has been unwise enough to read it.”

Vladimir’s eyes fastened on her, cold and intent.

He had made her uneasy, a little, when she had first started working for McClintock, and she had told herself that she was being foolish. The fact that he had a scarred face, a Russian accent, and a disconcertingly direct stare was no reason to be afraid of him. Over time she had gotten used to him, and her uneasiness had vanished—or else she had learned to ignore it. But now, as he stepped inside the library and closed the doors, she was afraid.

“Don’t harm her more than you need to,” said McClintock, “but make sure she doesn’t leave. I need a little time to prepare.”

Karen turned to run, adrenaline spiking through her, but she had nowhere to go. In an instant Vladimir had seized her arms in an iron grip. She tried to fight, but he was too strong for her. He forced her back into her chair and pushed it forward, pinning her against the table, and pulled her arms behind her, around the chair back. He forced her wrists up painfully and held them there, leaning his weight against the chair to hold it in place.

McClintock, meanwhile, had gone to the bookcase by the windows, and now held a book open in his hands. As Karen began desperately to call for help, he smiled at her and shook his head.

“You can save your breath, Karen, I’ve sound-proofed the room.”

She stared at him, her heart racing, her fear intensifying. What was he going to do?

“She knows?” asked Vladimir.

“Yes. I do wish, Karen, that you had minded your own business. You really are a very good secretary, and now I’m going to have to find a replacement. What a nuisance.”

Distantly, she noted that the book in his hands had a completely blank blue cover, with no lettering or decoration of any kind. Had it come from the bookcase by the windows? She was certain she had never seen it before, and she had thought she knew all the books he kept there.

But that hardly mattered right now.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, willing her voice not to shake. He sat down across the table from her and took up a pen, and didn’t answer her.

“Why not just kill her?” asked Vladimir.

“Because then we’ll have a body to dispose of,” he replied. “And anyway, too many deaths are going to draw exactly the kind of attention we don’t want. We lost Mr. Fisher only last month, and Mr. Farnum before that. We can’t afford another.”

Karen didn’t know who Farnum was, but Daniel Fisher had worked in the company’s legal department. He had been killed in a car accident just a few weeks ago.

“You killed them?” she asked, forcing the words out past the horror that threatened to choke her. Danny had been nice, he had a wife and a young son, and Karen had been shocked and saddened when she heard about the accident. “Did they find out about the sabotage, too?”

“Unfortunately, they did. And I have asked you already, Karen, not to be melodramatic. I haven’t killed anyone.”

 _Just weakened the brake lines in his car,_ she thought. And no doubt something similar in the case of Farnum.

He was writing something in the book in front of him, and looked up at her when he had finished. “It really would be better for everyone if I could simply make you forget what you’ve learned today. You, and Fisher, and Farnum, could all have continued with your lives, without putting myself or the company in danger. But my abilities can only influence the physical realm. The human mind is, alas, beyond me. And so we must rely on cruder methods to silence you.”

Her fear mounted higher, her heart pounding wildly.

“Not death, in your case,” he went on. “ _Disappearance_ should be sufficient, with a suitably plausible cover story, of course. It’s fortunate that you aren’t married, as Fisher and Farnum were. Not even dating anyone just now, are you? No inconvenient loved one to throw doubt on my explanation for your departure. Excellent.”

She listened in an agony of suspense. Was he going to lock her up here in the house somewhere, make her a prisoner? Tears pricked her eyes, and she looked at him pleadingly.

“You brought this on yourself,” he said quietly. “I assure you, it gives me no pleasure.”

He stood up, and raised one hand toward her. An unfamiliar symbol shimmered in the air before her eyes, dazzlingly bright, and she cried out in sudden pain. An intolerable pressure was crushing her, shrinking her. Even as Vladimir let her go and leaped back, she felt herself being compressed by a force far more merciless than his hands. 

It was excruciating. She shrieked as the room grew larger around her and slipped out of focus. Colors became muted, while sounds and smells burst into her awareness with heightened intensity. And then the pain stopped, as abruptly as it had begun, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache over her entire body. She lay panting on the seat of the chair, the table towering over her.

A pair of hands grabbed her and lifted her, and she cried out in pain again—only to hear the yowl of a cat. Her heart thundered rapidly in her ears. She looked down at herself, held in Vladimir’s grip, and saw a small, four-legged body covered in pale fur, tail twitching in agitation.

“If I kill her now, she’s only a dead cat,” Vladimir suggested. “Problem solved.”

Karen turned on him with another yowl, striking out with teeth and claws, uncoordinated in this new body but with panic giving her strength. He swore and lost his grip, and she ran, even as she heard McClintock’s answer.

“No, she would not be only a dead cat. Kill her, and she reverts to her human form. Remember that.” He crossed the room and opened the library door, and she sped through it like a shot. As she ran down the hall, she heard him say, “We can let her go now. She won’t get far, and she may as well learn that fact for herself.”

She ran desperately through the house, but all the doors to the outside were closed. She found an open window, and continued her headlong dash for freedom. The large front yard seemed even larger, now that she was so small. But the biggest shock came when she reached the edge of the property and tried to run out onto the public sidewalk.

She hit an invisible barrier of some kind and was flung back, a painful jolt of power coursing through her. She lay panting on the ground, half-stunned. After a few minutes, she got up and approached the edge again, more cautiously this time. An unpleasant tingle rippled down her spine, raising all the hair on her body. She pushed forward, the tingle increasing, until she reached a point where she was unable to move forward any farther. She simply couldn’t move, as long as she tried to move in that direction.

She made her way around the perimeter of the yard, and everywhere it was the same. She could move freely within the boundaries of McClintock’s property, but she could not cross those boundaries.

He _had_ made her a prisoner, after all.

She returned slowly to the house. She saw that McClintock had come out onto the front porch, and she approached him warily.

He smiled pleasantly when he saw her. “Ah, there you are. I assume you’ve discovered for yourself that you can’t leave. I wouldn’t want you running off to the police and having some nosy mage realize you’re enchanted. I made the spell as simple as I could, so it should be nearly undetectable. But why take chances? You’ll stay right here, where I can control who you come into contact with.”

The spell was simple? Didn’t that mean it would be easy to break? She looked at him attentively, her ears pricked forward.

His smile deepened as if he had heard her thought. “Oh yes, it’s really quite easy to break. It doesn’t even require a mage, anyone can do it. They simply need to call you by your name, first and last, three times in succession. But no one is ever going to guess your name.” His eyes crinkled suddenly, as if something amused him. “I think, as an added safeguard, I’ll tell people that you’re male. No one will ever connect a male house cat with my departed secretary, who took a sudden leave of absence…to attend to a family emergency. Yes, that will do nicely. No one is going to bother poking their noses into some backwater in Vermont to verify my story. And no one will ever suspect that you aren’t a true cat—everyone _knows_ there hasn’t been a case of human transformation in decades.”

Karen’s heart sank, her hope evaporating. McClintock was charming, charismatic, and he had a reputation for honesty that was rare in the business world. If he said she was on a leave of absence, it would be accepted without question. No one would doubt his word. And even if, by chance, anyone did, they would never guess that she had been _turned into a cat,_ of all things. He was right.

She wasn’t on speaking terms with her family, so they would never miss her. Her few friends would surely wonder why they couldn’t contact her, but there were innocuous explanations for phones not being answered, and numbers being disconnected. She never talked about her family or her hometown, so even if they did come to suspect foul play, they would have no idea who to turn to for information, or where to look for her. As for her work colleagues, all McClintock would have to do was wait a suitable period, then announce that she would not be returning to her job, and she would be forgotten. She was well and truly trapped.

“It could be worse, you know,” he told her. “The house is large, as is the yard, and I’m going to have to keep you alive to keep you in your present form. Not a bad life, for a cat. Although I dare say your human mind may find it unsatisfying. And do you know, I don’t think Vladimir likes you very much.” With that, he walked back into the house, leaving her alone.

* * * 

Over the next few days, she explored her prison. She was fed in the kitchen, enough to keep her alive, but not enough to keep her from being hungry much of the time. She attempted to hunt the small animals in the yard to supplement her diet—she now had a cat’s senses and a cat’s tastes, so the idea of eating rodents didn’t bother her. But a human mind in a cat’s body proved to be a poor combination for hunting. She might have a cat’s physical abilities, but she lacked a cat’s instincts, and although she got better with practice, she never became very good at it.

She explored the house, learning the best hiding places in each room, which doors were always open, which doors were always shut. She learned the housekeeping routines of the staff, finding that some doors were only open at certain times. The staff themselves didn’t pay much attention to her, although if she got accidentally shut inside a room, they would let her out again if she cried at the door.

She could enter and leave the house through the back door in the kitchen. When the cook grew tired of having to let her in and out, McClintock agreed to have a cat door installed. Karen was well aware that it was for the cook’s convenience and not for hers, but she was still glad to be able to come and go freely.

She avoided McClintock as much as possible. After what he had done to her, and everything she had learned about him, he repelled her. Fortunately, as long as she stayed out of his way he ignored her. Vladimir, however, was another matter. He tormented her whenever he got the chance. She quickly decided that it wasn’t just in revenge for the bites and scratches she had given him that first day—he just enjoyed it. It was to escape him that Karen found some of her best hiding places.

Gradually, she adjusted to her new existence. She was always angry, often hungry, sometimes afraid, but as time went on, eventually boredom set in. Honing her hunting skills took up some of her time, but otherwise, McClintock had been right. Her human mind was bored to distraction.

She prowled the library when no one was there, and one day discovered that she could pull the lighter books off the shelves by carefully hooking her claws into the binding. She didn’t much care what they were, she was willing to read anything she could to pass the time. But even if she could nudge the cover open, turning pages was beyond her ability. And she couldn’t put the books back again, but had to leave them lying where they fell, on the floor. She pulled down more, out of sheer spite, but felt a twinge of regret later when she heard McClintock berating his staff for the mess. She felt no animosity toward the staff—they couldn’t release her even if they wanted to. But her hatred of McClintock only grew with her frustration.

The knowledge that he couldn’t kill her gave her courage, and late one night she marched up and down outside the door to the master bedroom, yowling vengefully at the top of her small lungs, determined to keep him from sleeping even if she couldn’t do anything else to hurt him. Until suddenly, much too fast for her to evade him, he was in the hallway with her and snatching her up by the scruff of her neck.

He stared into her eyes and inquired, “Would you like to find out just how much I can damage with you without killing you?”

She froze, her rage congealing into fear in an instant.

“Do we understand each other?” he asked, in a pleasant tone that was somehow more horrible than a threatening one. She emitted a single, frightened _mew_ in response.

“Good,” he said, and smiled, and threw her—not toward the opposite wall, thank goodness, but down the hallway, away from his door. She landed on her feet and ran, not stopping until she reached the basement, huddling into a small space behind the furnace and panting for breath. 

The incident frightened her enough to make her give up any further thoughts of revenge. Her helplessness only fueled her anger, and she grew increasingly bitter as weeks became months and season followed season.

She also grew painfully lonely. The residents of the house were at best, indifferent to her, and at worst, her enemies. The cook gave her an occasional kind word along with her food, but was generally too busy to have time for a pet. There were no other domestic animals in the house to keep her company, and the wildlife in the yard were prey, not friends. Besides, she suspected that they knew she wasn’t a proper cat, even if the humans didn’t, and they avoided her uneasily even when she wasn’t hunting.

There were occasionally guests in the house, though, and it occurred to her that she could try to convince them that she wasn’t a true cat. She didn’t dare behave too oddly in front of McClintock, but whenever she could manage to get a guest alone, she would do her best.

But to no avail. No matter how un-catlike her behavior, they simply didn’t see what she was trying to tell them. McClintock was right—it had been so long since there was a case of human transformation that it didn’t even occur to people as a possibility. In their eyes, she was a cat, however peculiar. At best, they just laughed at her antics. At worst…a guest finally told McClintock how remarkably she was behaving.

He laughed, and agreed that yes, his cat was very unusual; but the look he gave Karen was just as effective a threat as the talk he had with her after the guests had gone. She gave up the idea of trying to get help from strangers, and with it her last hope.

* * * * *

Two years into her captivity, she was in the library one spring day, dozing on top of a bookcase, when she heard McClintock’s voice below her and pricked up her ears.

“Yes, I’m having them to stay here at the house,” he said, and looking down she saw that he was talking on the phone as he crossed the room. “All the documents they’ll need to go over are here, or can be accessed from here, and the extra attention will flatter them.”

So, she thought, he was preparing to turn on the charm, to cultivate new allies. She watched him select a favorite novel from the bookcase by the windows.

“Yes, of course we already have lawyers. But contingency plans harm no one. These two are bright, from all I can hear…which isn’t much, admittedly. But they have a reputation for honesty, which can’t be said for all lawyers, no matter how useful to us they may be. And they’ve recently started their own firm, which means they’re ambitious, and broke, and ripe for the picking. They won’t mind doing a lengthy, tedious audit—they’ll be eager for the billable hours. And Landman and Zack, frankly, are just as glad not to have to do it themselves…Yes, exactly. I will exercise my social graces, and by the time this wretched audit is over, I’ll have two tame lawyers in my pocket, eager to work for me again if I should need them…”

He crossed back to the door, novel in hand. “Of course they won’t find anything they shouldn’t, what do you take me for? The books are immaculate, I made sure of that myself.” He walked out.

Karen yawned, and stretched, and descended from her lofty perch to wander around the room. Houseguests would break up the tedium of her existence, if nothing else. She wondered if she dared to spend any time with them. She had given up hope that guests might be able to help her, but they might be good people, at least. They would think she was just a cat, of course. But maybe they would like cats. She was so lonely that even the possibility of kind words from strangers was something to look forward to.

* * * * *

The car rolled smoothly up the long driveway, and stopped in front of the house. The driver got out and opened the rear door, and Foggy and Matt, aka Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law, climbed out. Foggy looked around, and Matt cocked his head, listening, while the driver removed their bags from the trunk.

“Looks pretty swank,” said Foggy, as Matt pushed his dark glasses up his nose and unfolded his cane. “Big yard, big house, big trees. Fancy stonework, lots of balconies. Perfect lawn. We’re going to be living in style while we’re here.”

He sounded slightly uneasy at the prospect, to Matt’s sensitive ear, and Matt felt the same. They both came from decidedly un-swanky backgrounds, and had experienced first-hand the disdain of the wealthy and privileged as they made their way through law school, and an internship with a large, expensive firm.

Mr. McClintock, though, was very pleasant. He was more interested in their abilities than their background, which was gratifying. When he had hired them to do this audit, he had been disarmingly frank about the tedious nature of the job, and freely admitted that the law firm he normally employed were extremely busy, and unable to give the job the attention it deserved.

Suggesting they stay in his home while they did it was unusual, but not unheard of. It inevitably raised the suspicion that he might intend it as a bribe of some kind, perhaps the prelude to attempting to influence the outcome of the audit. But there had been no sign of that so far, and it might, after all, be merely the hospitable gesture that it seemed.

Suddenly, the startled yowl of a cat broke the quiet. Foggy heard nothing else, but Matt could hear a man’s voice, low and vindictive, speaking another language—Russian?—coming from around the corner of the house.

“Someone’s hurting that cat,” he told Foggy, and hurried toward the sound. He rounded the end of the wide front porch, and in the corner he sensed a man, back turned toward him, holding a squirming something at arm’s length in front of him. Matt heard the hair-raising growl of a cat preparing to fight, and a laugh from the man. He spoke again, the sneer in his voice unmistakable, and gave the cat a shake.

Matt ran forward, silent on the perfect grass, and slammed into the man’s back. He staggered forward, letting out a surprised yell, and the cat sprang free from his loosened grasp. She fled toward the nearest tree, flying up the trunk to take refuge in the branches, safely out of reach. Matt allowed himself to sprawl gracelessly onto the ground, as Foggy came up behind him, the driver watching silently from the front of the house.

The Russian man turned on him furiously, but hesitated as Foggy helped Matt to his feet.

“Matt, are you okay?” he asked solicitously. “Did you trip?” He knew perfectly well that Matt hadn’t, but this guy didn’t need to know that. Foggy watched him out of the corner of his eye, noting the scar on his face, the glare being leveled at them, and wondered if he was about to get punched. But the man looked Matt over, taking in the cane and the dark glasses; glanced past them to the watching driver, and stalked away without a backward glance.

Foggy breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t willing to overlook cruelty to animals any more than Matt was, but getting into a fight with McClintock’s…friend? relative? employee? wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

“Is the cat all right?” he asked under his breath. Matt turned toward one of the massive old trees that shaded the house, tipping his face up toward the branches overhead. Foggy could see nothing through the leaves, but he knew that Matt’s enhanced senses were listening for the animal’s heartbeat and breathing, probably smelling for any blood, and who knew what else. He had known Matt since college, and knew all about his unusual abilities, but he still wasn’t always sure just how much Matt could sense.

Matt smiled. “Fine,” he answered quietly, and they turned and walked back to the front of the house. The driver said nothing, but he cast a disapproving look in the direction the scarred man had gone. He gathered up the luggage, and ushered Matt and Foggy up the steps to the front door.

* * * 

Hidden in her tree, Karen panted and trembled until she got her breath back. It had been weeks since Vladimir had managed to get his hands on her, but he had backed her into a corner where the walls were too smooth to climb, and grabbed her as she tried to run past him. When he had suddenly stumbled and lost his grip, her only thought was to escape; but once safely up the tree, she had looked down and seen two strangers, one helping the other to his feet. She couldn’t see their faces from her vantage point up above them, but she saw the cane, and realized the man who had fallen was blind. He must have tripped, and fallen against Vladimir, saving her.

For a moment she feared Vladimir would retaliate, and felt a flash of guilt for running away and leaving her rescuer to face his anger. But no, it seemed even he would hesitate to attack a blind man in front of witnesses. Especially a man who must be a guest, since the strangers had arrived with McClintock’s own driver. She breathed a sigh of relief as Vladimir walked away.

And then, shockingly, the blind man turned toward her tree and tipped his face up, seeming to look straight at her. She stared at him, barely breathing. He _was_ blind, wasn’t he? She could see his dark glasses now, glinting in the sun. And yet, as wide as the tree’s canopy was, his face was turned directly toward where she perched. And as she watched, he smiled. It was a warm, reassuring smile, and she felt somehow that he was smiling _at her,_ as impossible as it seemed. She felt the stir of curiosity, for the first time in months. She needed to find out more about these strangers, especially the blind one.

* * * 

Matt and Foggy were given a large guest room, with their own en suite bathroom, and French doors opening onto a balcony. They unpacked their things and settled in, and then met their host for dinner.

McClintock was charming and affable, the dinner conversation polite and completely unmemorable, until Matt remarked, “There was a cat in the yard. Yours, or just a stray?”

“I do have a cat, yes,” he answered. “I hope you aren’t allergic?”

“No, not at all,” Matt assured him.

“He’s a skittish creature, and very shy of strangers,” McClintock went on, and Matt heard the lie loud and clear. “I wouldn’t suggest you try and get too close to him.”

“Of course,” Matt smiled. “Cats choose their own friends, we wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.” Inside, he was puzzled. Why would the man bother lying about his cat?

“He’s rather a strange creature,” McClintock continued, “He behaves very oddly at times. But I’m quite fond of him.” 

And that was another lie. Even more puzzled, Matt made a suitably polite answer, and the talk turned to other matters.

Later, in their room, he told Foggy.

“He was lying, Fog. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t want us getting close to that cat.”

“Seems like a weird thing to lie about,” Foggy admitted. “But there could be reasons. Not our business, buddy. Although I’m not saying you were wrong to step in, when the little guy was being hurt.”

“And that’s another thing,” said Matt. “I was only close to the cat for a second, but…I _thought_ it was a girl. McClintock kept saying _he,_ but it didn’t smell like a male.”

“It probably shouldn’t even surprise me at this point, that you can smell the difference between males and females.”

Matt grinned. “Well, mammals, anyway. Probably not all animals. And it’s harder to be sure if they’ve been spayed or neutered. But I don’t think this one has been. I think it’s a _she_.”

“Could he just not know?”

“Only if he’s never taken her to the vet,” Matt answered drily.

“True. Do you think he knows about that guy roughing her up?”

Matt sighed. “If he does, he’s not doing anything to stop it. And if he doesn’t…did you see anything?”

“No. By the time I got around the corner, the cat was halfway up a tree. And the driver was behind me, he couldn’t have seen, either.”

“So the only witness is a blind man. That won’t convince anyone. It’s too bad we can’t just ask the cat what the big secret is, she probably knows exactly why he’s lying.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad understanding animals isn’t one of your superpowers.”

Matt smiled—ever since he had told Foggy about his enhanced senses, Foggy liked to joke that he had superpowers. As long as no one else was within earshot. “I don’t have superpowers, Foggy. Just one sense that doesn’t work at all, and the other four work better than everyone else’s. But it _is_ too bad I can’t talk to her. McClintock was definitely lying about her being skittish and shy. And if she has to put up with that Russian asshole, then she could probably use a friend. If she approaches us, I think we should be nice to her, and just keep quiet about it.”

“Okay by me,” Foggy agreed.

* * * 

Outside the French doors, Karen sat in one corner of the balcony, her ears at full stretch, listening. She felt an unaccustomed flicker of something like hope. Both men seemed kind, but the blind one knew McClintock was lying! Finally, someone was here who recognized that there was something not right about her. _And_ he was willing to befriend her and not tell anyone. Was it possible that she might be able to convince him she wasn’t a true cat? Did she dare to hope?

Once their conversation turned to the work they were here to do, she wandered away. She could have told them plenty about Union Allied, things McClintock must have made sure they would never find in the official books, if only she could talk to them. She made her way down to the kitchen with a sigh, to eat her meager dinner.

* * * 

The next day, she stayed indoors, prowling the corridors of the house. The weather had changed overnight, and it was pouring down rain outside. She didn’t mind, though. She wanted to stay close to the two lawyers. She overheard enough of their conversation to learn that the blind one’s name was Matt—Foggy’s name she had heard last night on the balcony.

During the afternoon she noticed that Vladimir was also prowling the corridors, and she ran for the nearest hiding place. But it wasn’t like him to hang around the house aimlessly, so she peered out cautiously to watch him. He was lurking in a window alcove, watching the closed library door. Karen felt uneasy. If he had business with McClintock, he would have gone in openly. Hiding, and watching surreptitiously, looked suspicious.

Eventually the door opened, and Matt and Foggy came out. Vladimir’s eyes fixed malevolently on Matt, confirming Karen’s fears. As soon as he slipped silently out of the window alcove to follow them, she darted out and got under his feet, tripping him up and sending him sprawling, then dashed away down the hall, his furious swearing ringing in her ears.

* * *

Matt and Foggy turned, startled, at the noise, and McClintock came to stand in the library doorway.

“Did you need something, Vladimir?” he asked mildly, as the man got to his feet.

“No, Mister McClintock,” he said, his English strongly accented, his voice heavy with suppressed anger. He scowled after the cat for a moment, then turned and walked away, and after a moment of silence Matt and Foggy continued on their way, back to their room.

Once inside, Foggy said, “That was the same guy who was messing with the cat yesterday.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “Who just happened to be right there outside the library, right as we came out? He basically admitted he didn’t have any real reason for being there.”

“Do you think he knows you shoved him on purpose?”

“Yeah, I think he does. Good thing the cat was there to trip him.” Matt had been aware of the man behind them, and he knew how to fight if fighting was necessary. But he kept his abilities secret from everyone but Foggy. If Vladimir had intended violence, Matt would have had to choose between revealing his skills, or letting himself be hurt. The timely intervention of the cat had saved him from having to do either.

“You’d think she’d want to stay as far from him as possible, not get under his feet like that,” said Foggy.

“You’d think,” Matt agreed thoughtfully.

* * * 

That evening, after the humans had had their dinner, Karen sat in the kitchen eating hers, and thinking hard. She didn’t know how long the lawyers would be staying in the house, and she was trying to figure out what she could do to convince them that she wasn’t a cat. She knew McClintock would be angry if he caught her spending time with them, so she would have to be careful not to get caught.

She finished what was in her bowl, and, still hungry, headed for the cat door. The rain had stopped, and she wanted to try and supplement her dinner with a bit of hunting.

She smelled Vladimir as soon as she slipped outside, and even as she turned to run she was seized by a pair of strong hands.

* * *

Some time later, she walked slowly and stiffly along the side of the house. She wasn’t badly hurt, but her fur was completely covered in heavy mud. There was a patch of bare ground in one corner of the yard where nothing would grow, and the day’s rain had left it a sticky mess. Vladimir had forced her down into the mud, rubbing it roughly all over her body, and had left her there, lying in the muck. She had dragged herself out and rolled around as best she could in the wet grass, but she was still coated in mud, far too much for her to lick herself clean. She needed help.

Last night, it had been the work of a moment to climb up to Matt and Foggy’s upstairs balcony. Now, weighed down by mud, it was another story. She made it partway, but then a leap that should have carried her safely to a windowsill fell short, and she found herself scrabbling desperately for a foothold, two stories above the ground, in the ivy that grew up the wall. She dug in her claws, and a thick, old stem took her weight and held. But for how long?

There were lights on in Matt and Foggy’s room, and she began to cry piteously, hoping that Matt’s ears were sharp enough to hear her through the closed windows.

* * *

Inside, Matt lifted his head abruptly. They had been talking about the day’s work, but he waved Foggy silent, saying urgently, “Listen.”

They both strained their ears, and Matt heard it again—the cry of an animal in distress, coming from outside. He strode to the French doors and opened them. Foggy followed him out onto the dark balcony, and now they could both hear it plainly.

“It’s the cat,” said Foggy quietly.

“She’s close,” said Matt. He turned his head to the right. “She’s in the ivy, on the other side of that window, and… she doesn’t smell right.” He frowned. “She must be stuck, or she wouldn’t be crying. We have to help her, before she falls. What’s the room next to ours?”

“I’ll go see.” 

Foggy went back inside, and Matt called softly to the terrified cat. “It’s all right, girl, we’re going to help you.” He could hear the hammering of her heart, and could smell her fear through that other smell that was covering her. Soil, that was it, she smelled like soil. The ground must be soaked after the rain, had she gotten into some mud?

Foggy came back. “It’s locked,” he reported.

Matt considered the distance. If he climbed out the window of their bathroom, he could reach the window of the locked room; and both windows had deep, protruding sills. “Hang on, cat,” he told her, “I’m coming.”

He went back inside and went into the bathroom, pulling off his tie and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He opened the window, and climbed out onto the sill.

“Matt, are you nuts?” Foggy asked, coming into the bathroom behind him.

“I can climb across, there are plenty of handholds.”

“And can you climb back, carrying a cat?”

He thought about it. “If I can’t, I’ll get her onto the windowsill where she can’t fall, and we’ll think of something else.”

Foggy watched dubiously from the window as Matt headed out. It wasn’t far from their window to the next, and from that windowsill he was within reach of the cat. He gripped the side of the window enclosure and leaned out.

“Easy, girl, it’s going to be all right,” he murmured, as his hand brushed lightly over her fur. She hadn’t just gotten into mud, she was covered in it. He eased his hand carefully underneath her, talking quietly, trying to project reassurance. “I’m sorry, cat, I know this feels weird, but I’ve got to get my hand under you to support your weight. It’s that or grab you by the scruff, and I’m afraid you’re too slippery, I might lose my grip.”

He got his hand under her hindquarters, and flexed his arm experimentally. She was heavy, but not _too_ heavy. “I think we can do this,” he told her. “If you let go of the ivy and grab hold of my arm instead, it’ll help.”

She mewed, and to his amazement, she let go of the ivy and grabbed his arm. He quickly hauled her in, feeling her claws dig painfully into his flesh, and pulled both of them back into the window enclosure. He set her down gently beside him, and she pressed herself against his leg, shivering.

“So far, so good,” he told her. “But how am I going to get you safely over there—“ he nodded toward the bathroom window—“when I need both my hands for climbing?”

Karen looked up at him, then looked at the next window, measuring the distance. It would be an easy jump under normal circumstances. But even weighted down as she was, she thought she could make it. And she couldn’t let Matt risk falling to the ground below trying to carry her. She stepped to the edge of the windowsill and gathered herself, hearing Matt’s sharp intake of breath beside her.

She leaped before he could stop her. She landed on the very edge of the sill, her claws scrabbling on the stonework.

“Foggy, don’t let her fall!” Matt exclaimed, but Foggy was already reaching out, getting both hands arounds her and hoisting her up. She found her footing, sprang through the window and jumped down to the bathroom floor.

“S’okay, Matt, she’s in. Now get back in yourself, before you break your damn neck.”

Matt climbed through the window a moment later, closing it behind him.

“Close the door, Foggy, we’d better keep her in here until we can get her cleaned up.”

He did, remarking, “I’ve never seen such a muddy cat, she must have rolled in it.”

Matt put the stopper in the bathtub and started the water running. Then he sat down on the floor. “I’m afraid you won’t like this much,” he told the cat. “But I think soaking you is the only way to get all this mud out.”

“Good thing there’s two of us,” said Foggy, sitting down beside him. “If she doesn’t want to go in the water, then none of us is going to like this much.”

Matt reached out a hand toward the cat, and she delicately sniffed his fingers. “I hope you know we’re trying to help you,” he said, and she came closer, butting her head against him.

“Matt, you’re bleeding,” said Foggy, looking at his arm.

“Yeah, a little,” he agreed, unconcerned. “She dug in her claws when I lifted her out of the ivy. I don’t mind, I might have dropped her if she hadn’t.”

Karen stared at his arm, seeing the puncture marks, the blood on his skin. In the panic of being rescued, she hadn’t noticed that she had hurt him. She made a remorseful sound. Then she reached out, claws carefully sheathed, held his forearm between her front paws, and began to lick his wounds, cleaning away the blood.

“Will you look at that,” said Foggy, surprised. “Or, you know, use your other senses at that. I think she likes you, buddy. Either that, or she has a taste for human flesh and she’s going to devour us in our sleep.”

Karen looked at him reproachfully.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he told her. “She gave me such a look, Matt. Like she could understand what we’re saying.”

Karen mewed, willing them to understand.

Matt smiled. “When I was getting her out of the ivy, I told her to let go and grab my arm instead, and she did. She’s a smart one.” He put a hand in the tub, checking the water depth, and turned off the tap. “Ready?” he asked.

“Is she?” Foggy replied, looking at the cat. “I’m taking my shirt off, I have a feeling there’s about to be splashing.”

“Good idea.”

They both took off their shirts, and then Matt picked her up, cradling her against his bare chest as he knelt beside the tub. The smell of his skin surrounded her, warm and comforting, as she looked at the water warily. Her cat’s body did not want to be submerged in water, it would wash away the natural oils from her skin. But her human mind knew that her skin would produce more oil, and that allowing the mud to dry on her would be much worse than a temporary immersion.

“Well, here goes,” said Matt, and lowered her carefully into the water.

She made an anxious sound as the water rose up around her, and wrapped her paws around his wrist, but didn’t struggle. When he let go, she was seated on the bottom of the tub, and the water came up only to her chest. The men held their arms out, ready in case she tried to leap back out, but to their surprise she had relaxed, and seemed content where she was. 

Karen stood up and shook out her back legs, one at a time, and mud swirled into the water. She attempted the muscular contraction that should've made the fur all along her back stand up, but it was too heavy. She made a disgruntled _Mrrrrp_ and sat back down, looking up at Matt and blinking her eyes at him trustfully.

“I’ll be damned,” said Foggy, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. “Cat, you are a little blue-eyed _weirdo._ ” His tone was affectionate, and after all, she _wanted_ them to think she was weird, so she blinked her eyes at him, too, a cat’s smile.

“She has blue eyes?” Matt asked, reaching into the tub and gently running his fingers into her fur.

“Yeah,” said Foggy, reaching in to help. “I don’t know what color the rest of her is under the mud, I only caught a glimpse of her this afternoon. Pale, though, not dark. She tore past like a streak of lightning after she tripped that asshole.”

“Vladimir,” said Matt, and the cat hissed. It was so unexpected that he and Foggy both pulled back their hands. “Did we hurt you?” he asked. She sat still and silent. After a moment he asked hesitantly, “Vladimir?” and she hissed again.

“Wow,” said Foggy, as they both resumed washing her. “I’ve never known any cat that hated someone so much she’d hiss when his name was mentioned. They must have some history.”

Matt frowned. “Did Vladimir do this to you?” he asked her, and she gave a long, unhappy _mrrrrrow_. “Because you tripped him earlier, when he was following me?” Karen thought about it, them _mrrrrrowed_ again. Vladimir might enjoy tormenting her when the opportunity presented itself, but he didn’t normally lie in wait for her as he had tonight. Yes, that was probably payback for thwarting him and sending him sprawling in front of the others.

Foggy listened, bemused, while Matt continued to converse with a cat. He was talking to her like she could understand him, and she responded as if she actually could.

“You should stay out of his way,” Matt chided her, carefully scooping water over her head and rubbing behind her ears. “I can take care of myself.”

She butted her head against his fingers, her small tongue flicking out to lick him.

He smiled. “I like you, too,” he said, stroking her head. “But he could really hurt you if he wanted. McClintock said he’s fond of you, but he was lying. I don’t know why he keeps you here, but you can’t count on him to protect you. Don’t get on Vladimir’s bad side for my sake.”

“You mean like you did for her, the second we arrived?” Foggy asked. Matt grinned.

Karen looked from one man to the other. Did that mean that it wasn’t an accident, that Matt had shoved Vladimir on purpose to make him let her go? And then tonight, he had climbed out a window two stories up, risking himself to bring her to safety. She felt her lonely heart swell. In all the time she had been a cat, no one had cared about her enough to do anything like that. She caught his wrist between her paws, and rubbed her cheek against his hand.

“She wants petting,” Foggy observed. “Once she’s out of this tub, she’s going to be all over you.”

“I think you’re right,” Matt answered, pleased. He didn’t have much experience with cats, but he felt a growing affection for this one. He had begun by feeling sorry for her, and angry that she was being mistreated. But now her own personality was winning him over. It might be fanciful to think she had deliberately tripped Vladimir to protect him, but if it was true then she was very brave. And she definitely seemed intelligent, and odd, and starved for love in a house where no one appreciated her. He couldn’t help liking her, and was more than willing to give her the attention she craved.

But first, they had to get her clean. “We should turn her over,” he said to Foggy, “so we can wash her underside.”

“Could be dangerous,” said Foggy doubtfully. “Some cats attack if you touch their belly. Although she _has_ been really good so far.”

Matt skritched her head. “Will you let me touch your belly?” he asked.”Foggy can hold you up, and keep your head out of the water. What do you think?”

Karen turned her head and licked him, blinking her eyes at him calmly. She would never attack Matt, or Foggy either.

“Okay, let’s try it,” Matt said. He lifted her up and carefully turned her over, and Foggy got his hands under her back to support her. Her heart beat a little faster at the strange sensation of floating on her back, but she remained calm.

Matt began rubbing her belly, gingerly at first, but more confidently when she stayed still under his hand. “Good girl,” he murmured. “We’re almost done.” He could feel her ribs plainly under the skin, and he said to Foggy, “They aren’t feeding her enough, she’s awfully thin.”

“You’re right,” Foggy agreed. “I can feel her backbone. Why keep her at all, if he isn’t going to treat her well?”

Matt shook his head. They might never know the answer, they couldn’t very well ask McClintock. He ran his hands down the cat’s upturned legs, pressing his thumb gently into the pads of her feet.

“She feels pretty clean,” he said. “What do you think?”

Foggy peered at the cat through the murky water. “Looks good to me. You ready to come out, kitty?”

She mewed.

Matt got a towel, and Foggy lifted her out and set her on the bath mat. Immediately, she shook herself, spraying water in all directions. Matt flinched and turned his face away, grinning.

“I guess we should have expected that,” he said, draping the towel over her and starting to rub carefully. She came closer, putting her front paws on his knee and looking up at him as he dried her. Foggy drained the tub, then picked up his and Matt’s shirts and went back out into the bedroom.

Matt passed a hand over the cat’s fur, which was still damp, but no longer dripping wet. “I think that’s the best I can do, cat,” he told her, standing up to hang the towel over the shower curtain rod.

Karen shook herself again, then began grooming herself to clean away the last traces of mud. But when Matt left the bathroom, she followed, not wanting to let him out of her sight. She padded lightly across the floor and leapt up onto an armchair that smelled like him, where she resumed her grooming. Foggy laughed.

Matt accepted the commandeering of his chair with good grace. “Might as well get changed now,” he said, going to his suitcase and rummaging for a t-shirt. He exchanged his trousers for a pair of sweatpants, and then took Foggy’s chair while Foggy was putting on his own pajamas.

“Hey,” Foggy protested half-heartedly. Once dressed, he walked over to the cat and looked her over. “She cleans up nice,” he told Matt. “She’s not cream, or pale orange…more yellow. Hi there,” he addressed the cat. “I think it’s time we introduced ourselves.” And now he was doing it too, he realized, talking to her as if she understood. “I’m Foggy Nelson.” He held out a hand to her. She sniffed his fingers, then licked him. He skritched behind her ears. “And your rescuer over there is Matt Murdock.”

Matt patted his leg invitingly, and Karen decided she had groomed enough. She jumped down and went to the other chair, hopping up into Matt’s lap. She butted her head against his hand, and he smiled and began petting her. She stood on her back legs, putting her front paws on his chest, and he obligingly scooped her up into the crook of his arm, and kept petting with his other hand.

Karen felt a vibration in her throat, and a rough, unpracticed sound emerged, startling her for a moment. She couldn’t recall ever purring before, in all the time she had been a cat. She hadn’t even been sure she knew how. But now, safe and clean and cuddled against Matt’s chest, she found purring was as easy as breathing. She rubbed her cheek against his, then tucked her head under his jaw, her face pressed into his neck. His skin was rough with stubble, but she didn’t care. She breathed in the scent of him, and nestled shamelessly into his warmth, her whole body rumbling with purrs.

Foggy sat down in the chair she had vacated, and grinned. “What did I tell you? You guys are too cute.”

Matt dropped a kiss on top of her head. “You said she was going to be all over me,” he answered, a hint of smugness in his tone. “I wonder why McClintock lied about her. He doesn’t want us associating with her, but why?”

Karen sighed, wishing she could speak.

“Beats me,” said Foggy, shaking his head. “I guess we’d better not mention any of this to him, though.”

“No,” Matt agreed. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s welcome to come visit us. But McClintock can’t know.”

“Agreed,” said Foggy. “What do we do with her tonight? Let her sleep here?”

Karen nudged Matt’s chin, and reached her paws up to rest on his shoulders. 

“I think she wants to stay, buddy, she’s hugging you.”

“You can stay,” he told her, fondling her ears. “We’ll let you out in the morning, as soon as we wake up, and no one will ever know.”

* * *

When they went to bed, Karen curled up beside Matt, worn out and ready to sleep. But she woke again a few hours later, her mind restless. She felt certain now that these men would want to help her if they knew what had been done to her, but how was she to tell them? Hope and anxiety filled her head, and she leapt down from the bed to prowl the room. The thought that they might finish their work and go away, leaving her here, was unendurable. Somehow, she had to find a way to tell them the truth.

She paced for a while, silently, not wanting to wake them, listening to their quiet breathing and racking her brain. Eventually she grew tired enough to sleep again, and she returned to Matt’s bed, curling up next to his pillow.

* * *

In the morning, Matt woke to a gentle tapping on his shoulder. He heard a light, rapid heartbeat near him, and smelled the unmistakable scent of cat, and remembered what had happened last night. He yawned and stretched. 

“Hi,” he greeted the cat, who was batting at him with one paw. He reached out to stroke her head and run his hand down her back. Now that she was clean and dry, her fur was soft, and at his touch she began to purr and butted her head against his hand.

He smiled and sat up briefly to scoop her up in both hands, then lay down on his back and set her on his chest. She leaned forward to touch her nose to his, then settled back and tucked her legs under herself, half-closing her eyes as he continued to pet her. Her purrs nearly drowned out the sounds of Foggy beginning to stir in the other bed.

“Is it morning?” he asked sleepily.

“You tell me, you’re the one who can see,” Matt answered lightly. He could generally tell day from night by the different sounds surrounding him, but he knew the rhythms of the urban center much better than this quiet residential area.

Foggy squinted at the daylight filtering through the curtains, yawned hugely, and sat up. “Yup. Morning,” he confirmed. He glanced over at Matt’s bed, and shook his head. “In bed with a beautiful blonde. Typical.” Matt grinned.

Foggy got up and shuffled toward the bathroom, and Karen was reminded of why she had woken Matt. She reluctantly left her spot on his chest, leapt to the floor, and went to the French doors, mewing.

“You want to go outside?” Matt asked, coming over and opening the doors. She darted out onto the balcony, and relieved herself in a corner. There was a litter box downstairs in the kitchen, but she often went outside when it was more convenient.

“Oh, right,” said Matt, the sound and smell carrying back to him clearly. “She’s a very polite cat,” he told Foggy, who had emerged from the bathroom and come to stand beside him in the doorway. “She was very gentle when she woke me up, and she asked to go outside so she could do her business.”

“That _is_ polite,” said Foggy. “Good kitty,” he added, as she came back to the doorway and began to weave around Matt’s ankles, purring. Foggy bent down and held out his hand, and she sniffed his fingers and allowed him to rub behind her ears. She wove once around his ankles, but then returned to Matt.

“She loves you best, buddy, no question,” said Foggy. “But we’re going to have a hard time keeping all this a secret if she won’t leave you alone.”

Karen stopped, and looked up at Foggy, and made a sad little sound. She knew she had to leave them, before anyone saw her there, but she didn’t want to go.

“Dude, that is spooky, the way she acts like she knows what we’re saying.” Foggy stared at her.

Matt sat down on the floor and addressed her seriously. “It’s not that we want you to leave,” he told her. “You’re welcome to come see us when we’re alone. Just don’t get caught, okay? Stay out of trouble.”

Karen looked at him solemnly and made an affirmative _mrrrrrp._ She rubbed her cheek against his ankle, then walked away and hopped up onto the rail of the balcony.

“Can she get down all right?” Foggy asked, but as he watched she made the descent safely. “She can. It must have just been all that mud weighing her down that got her into trouble last night. I hope she has sense enough to stay away from us during the day.”

“Me, too,” said Matt standing up and walking back to sit on his bed. He was troubled. It seemed clear that the cat led an unhappy life, but what could he do? They couldn’t very well kidnap their client’s pet, and it seemed unlikely that McClintock would give her up willingly, given his attempts to keep them away from her. He was reluctant to leave her here once their work was finished, but it looked like he wasn’t going to have a choice.

* * *

Karen spent the day avoiding Vladimir, and thinking about what to do. The former was easy enough, if she stayed alert and used her ears and nose. But the latter was more difficult. She was a cat, she couldn’t speak or write. Matt and Foggy had recognized some of her behavior as un-catlike, but that was unlikely to be enough. 

Human transformation was like smallpox. Everyone knew it had happened in the past, but now it had been completely wiped out. It belonged to the bad old days, before the police had mages working for them. Karen had thought of it that way herself, until it had happened to her. She knew that it simply wouldn’t occur to Matt or Foggy that a cat wasn’t actually a cat, unless she could think of something more drastic than any of her behavior so far.

Late in the day, while the men were off having dinner, she wandered into the library. Despite this being the room where McClintock had transformed her, she liked it here. As long as McClintock was someplace else.

She paced restlessly around the room, stopping in front of the bookcase by the windows. She stared morosely at the unadorned blue book, which she had never noticed until the day it was used against her. She had learned in her two years of unwilling residence that it was McClintock’s spell book, filled with symbols of power, and the terms and conditions of the various spells he created.

She had wondered, at first, why he didn’t keep it locked up. But she had come to understand that he had cast an illusion on it, to hide it from human eyes while it sat on its shelf. She could see it plainly, now that she was a cat, but the various humans who passed through the library never noticed it. It hid in plain sight, ready to his hand whenever he might need it, but invisible to the casual observer.

Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, Karen had an idea.

* * *

That night, when they went back to their room after dinner, Matt opened the bathroom window far enough for a cat to slip through. As he and Foggy sat talking, he also kept an ear open in case she came to their door through the house. But no cat came to visit them, by door or by window. He was surprised, and disappointed. 

When they went to bed, he left the window open.

* * *

Karen was sitting outside the door to McClintock’s bedroom, waiting and listening. She wanted to be certain he was asleep before she put her plan into action, and she was prepared to wait right here for as long as necessary. If Matt was already asleep by the time she got to him, she would wake him.

She listened to the faint sounds from inside the bedroom, heard the creak of the bed as McClintock lay down, and then, a little later, quiet snoring. _Finally._

She slipped away down the hall and made her way down to the kitchen, and out into the chilly night. She had gone out in the yard after her dinner, as she did most nights (listening very carefully at the door this time, before venturing out), and had noticed the open window upstairs. If only they had left it open, she would be able to get in silently instead of crying at the door.

The lights were all turned out in Matt and Foggy’s room when she climbed up, but the window was open. She slipped inside like a shadow and jumped lightly to the floor, padding into the bedroom. She heard slow, quiet breathing from both beds, both men asleep. She would need Foggy’s eyes later, but only if the first part of her plan was successful, and for that, she needed Matt.

She leapt up onto his bed, landing near his head. He twitched slightly, mumbling and shifting, but didn’t wake. She climbed onto the pillow and stuck her cold nose in his ear.

He started. “What—oh.” He smiled in the darkness, and put a hand on her back. “There you are,” he whispered. “Hi.” He lifted the covers, and she crawled in beside him.

She felt a small spurt of pure happiness. He was pleased that she’d come, even though she woke him up. She allowed herself a moment to bask in his affection, snuggling closer as he sleepily petted her. Her rusty purr sounded briefly, and she licked his cheek. But then she got back to the matter at hand. Now that he was awake, there was something she needed him to do.

She closed her teeth gently in the fabric of his t-shirt, and tugged.

“Hey,” he whispered, with a breathy laugh, and she realized he thought she was playing. She crawled out from under the covers, took hold of his shirt again, and backed firmly toward the edge of the bed. He moved toward her to keep his shirt intact, and frowned. “Cat, what are you—“ She reached the edge and almost fell off, letting go of his shirt in alarm. He caught her, and set her down safely beside him, putting a finger under her chin to fend her face away from him, gently but firmly. So she reached out with her front paws and hooked her claws into the fabric, and tugged again.

He gave a resigned sigh and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and lifting her into his lap. “Why this sudden fascination with my shirt?” he whispered.

She jumped down to the floor next to his feet, and took his sweatpants in her teeth, backing away from the bed and pulling. Then she let go and walked away a few steps, looking back over her shoulder. She knew he couldn’t see her—how much could he pick up with his other senses? She came back and did it again. Tugged at his leg, then walked away and looked back expectantly.

Matt was sitting perfectly still, an intent expression on his face. “Do you…do you want me to follow you?” he asked quietly. She came back and bumped her head against his leg, bending to touch his ankle with her tongue. He stood up.

She walked to the door, and batted at it softly with her paw. He followed, and opened the door. “You could have just come here in the first place, and meowed,” he told her. “We would have let you out.” She took hold of his sweatpants again, and tugged.

“Oh,” he murmured. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. She felt a moment of doubt—how much noise would she have to make for a blind man to be able to follow her, even one with extra strong hearing? Could he manage without his cane? Maybe she should have woken both of them.

But he said, “Go ahead, I’ll follow,” with so much confidence that she put her doubts aside. She was asking him to trust her, it was only fair for her to trust him, too. If he said he would follow, he would. And sure enough, as she set off she heard him behind her, walking easily and without hesitation, through the silent house until they reached the door of the library.

The cat stopped, and batted at the library door. Matt opened it, and followed her in. He had a feeling that Foggy would tell him he was crazy, if he had woken up to be consulted. Following a cat around in the dead of night seemed crazy, on the face of it. But her behavior had an intent behind it, an intelligence, that compelled him to find out what it was she wanted.

Karen led him to the bookcase by the windows, where the spell book waited. It might hide itself from human sight as long as it remained on the shelf, but a blind man wouldn’t need to see it. She climbed nimbly up the shelves, balancing precariously, until she reached the one she needed. She nearly fell from the narrow edge once she stopped moving, but Matt quickly put his hands out to steady her.

The book was shorter than its neighbors, and she carefully wriggled her paw into the space between the taller books until she could hook her claws into the featureless spine. She wondered belatedly if McClintock had put any other protections in place, but nothing unexpected happened when she touched the book and tugged it forward. She pulled it partially out from the row, then turned to Matt and dared the softest meow she could manage.

Matt reached out obediently and picked it up, feeling bemused. The cat had woken him up in the middle of the night to show him a book? Although…it was an unusual book. It was hard bound, but the covers and spine were utterly smooth to his sensitive fingers. No lettering, no embossed design, nothing. He wasn’t even certain what the cover was made of, there was no smell of cloth or leather, and the surface was too smooth for either.

He opened it, and felt a few pages. The paper inside was smooth, but he could feel lines, letters…it was difficult to make anything out, but it felt like handwriting, done with variable pressure on the page, so his fingers caught fragments, individual strokes of the pen here and there.

“Can we take this back to Foggy?” he asked softly. “He’ll be able to read it more easily than I can.” The cat jumped down from her shelf and licked his ankle, then walked back toward the door. Taking that as a _yes,_ Matt followed.

* * *

“Foggy, wake up.”

“Nnnnngh. Go away. I _know_ it’s not morning yet.” He burrowed into his pillow determinedly.

Matt turned on a lamp, and the cat jumped onto the bed and began to lick Foggy’s face, her whiskers tickling him.

“Ugh, no fair,” he mumbled, opening his eyes. “That’s two against one.” The cat stopped licking, and head-butted him, forehead to forehead. Matt sat down on the bed, holding a small blue book. “Fine, all right, I’m awake.” He sat up.

“Keep your voice down,” Matt cautioned. “We don’t want to wake anyone else.”

Foggy frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly. Matt told him. Foggy’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as he listened. “You know that sounds crazy, right?” he asked when Matt was finished.

“Yeah, I know.” Matt handed him the book. “What is this? I couldn’t make out enough to tell.”

Foggy took the book and examined the blank outside, then opened it and looked through the pages. “Matt, this is…I think these are spells. Magic spells. It’s a spell book.” He stared at the cat, sitting in Matt’s lap. “What are you getting us into, cat?” She stared back at him, her blue eyes solemn.

“She wanted us to see this, Foggy,” said Matt. “I know it sounds weird, but she led me directly to it and practically put it in my hands. The question is, why?” He absently stroked the cat as he thought. “We already knew McClintock’s a mage, so it’s not just that. There must be something more particular.”

She turned and licked his hand. “Yeah?” he asked her. “Okay, is there a specific spell in there you want us to see?” She licked his hand again, and he could hear her heart rate increase. “All right. How do we figure out which one?”

“You’re both crazy,” said Foggy, “but for the sake of argument, I’ll be crazy with you. Come here, kitty.” It didn’t even surprise him any more when she did what he said. “If I show you the pages one by one,” he asked her, “will you recognize the right one when you see it?” She licked his hand eagerly. “Kisses mean _yes?_ ” he asked, to make sure, and she licked him again and purred.

She went back to Matt and tugged on his shirt. “You want me up there, too?” he asked. “For moral support?” She licked his arm. “All right. Move over, Foggy.” He scooted up to sit beside Foggy at the head of the bed, and the cat resumed her place in his lap. “She’s agitated,” he told Foggy. “Her heart’s going like a jackhammer.”

“That is not reassuring,” he answered, and turned back to the beginning of the book. “All right, let’s do this.” He held out the book so the cat could see, and began slowly turning the pages. Some pages were densely filled with writing. Others had only a few sentences, sometimes accompanied by strange symbols.

Matt sat quietly, one arm around the cat, not wanting to distract her with any more active attention. He listened to the slow rustle of the pages, the rapid beat of her heart, and Foggy’s slower, familiar heartbeat beside him.

Karen watched anxiously as each new page was turned, her eyes darting eagerly over the words. They seemed to be, not incantations, but descriptions of each spell’s effects. She knew very little about magic, and the symbols that adorned so many of the pages meant nothing to her, although she remembered that a symbol had burned in the air when she was transformed.

And then Foggy turned a page, and there it was, the same symbol that had glowed above her as her body was crushed down to its current size. She cowered away in fear, trembling violently, the memory of intolerable pain drawing from her an eerie, muted wail.

Matt swiftly picked her up and tucked her against his chest, stroking her back soothingly and murmuring, “It’s all right, you’re safe here, no one’s going to hurt you.” She panted and shivered and pressed her face into his neck, her eyes squeezed shut.

Foggy stared, shocked by the strength of her reaction. “I guess it’s this one,” he said unnecessarily. “I never saw a cat so spooked before. You’re all right, little girl, you’re safe with us.”

“What is it?” asked Matt, his face grim. “What’s the spell?”

Foggy turned back to the book. A large symbol took up half the page, and below it…”Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Matt. This is. _Shit._ ” He took a deep breath, feeling a shiver of dread. “It’s a spell for transforming a human into an animal,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. “Into…into a cat.”

Matt sucked in his breath. He turned to the cat cradled in his arms. She was still trembling, but less violently now. “Are you…” he asked. “Are you…human? Are you a woman?” She licked his neck once, then put her paws over her eyes and moaned. He held her close, speechless.

Karen wanted to cry, but a cat couldn’t cry tears as a human would. Her relief that at last someone knew what she was, what had been done to her, mixed with grief and remembered pain. The combination was overwhelming, and she shuddered and buried her face against Matt.

Foggy reached out and rubbed her back, offering what comfort he could. “Shit,” he said again. There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

After a few minutes of appalled silence, once the cat—the _woman_ —had grown calmer, Matt asked quietly, “What are the terms, Foggy? What does it say?” They had done a semester of magical law in law school, so he knew that a spell was like a contract. The terms and conditions needed to be clearly stated, or the spell wouldn’t work.

Foggy looked at the book again. He turned to the next page to see if there was more, then turned back again. “It’s really simple, there’s hardly anything to it. She can’t leave this property, the house and grounds, as long as she remains a cat. And the spell can only be broken by someone calling her by her name, first and last, three times in succession. Anyone, it doesn’t have to be a mage.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Clever,” said Matt, his voice full of suppressed anger. “How is anyone supposed to be able to figure out her name?”

“Especially if people think she’s a boy,” Foggy pointed out grimly.

“Of course.” Matt leaned his head back against the wall, all of McClintock’s lies suddenly making sense. “And if she can’t leave, it’s unlikely that another mage would ever see her and see that she’s enchanted, and even if one came here, the spell is simple enough that it might not be noticed. So no one would ever realize she was enchanted, _and_ the key to breaking the spell is something no one would ever be able to guess. He’s covered all his bases. It’s despicable, but it’s very clever.”

He set the cat gently in his lap. “Just so we’re clear,” he said to her, “Is McClintock the one who did this to you?” She licked his hand. “So he’s not as benevolent as he’d like us to believe.” He turned back to Foggy. “We can’t let him know we’re on to him,” he said determinedly. “Until we can think of a way to help, we can’t do anything to make him suspicious.”

“Help, like break the spell? Do you think we can?”

“We have to try, we can’t leave her like this.”

“No, of course not.” It was just like Matt, he thought, to leap into the fray as soon as he knew there was a wrong that needed righting. Foggy wanted to right wrongs, too, but he preferred a more cautious approach. “If we can’t guess her name,” he suggested, “I could call Brett.” He told the cat, “I’ve got a friend on the police force who’s a mage. Maybe he can do something, if we tell him what we know.”

Matt thought about it. “It’s risky,” he said. “all we have is circumstantial evidence. He’d need to come here and examine her for himself, and there’s no way McClintock would agree to that. He’d have to get a warrant. He’d be sticking his neck out pretty far, just on our say-so. And McClintock is very good at presenting himself as a good person, above suspicion. We need proof, to convince anyone that he would do a thing like this.”

“There’s the book,” said Foggy.

“Yes. But we can’t keep it, McClintock might notice it was missing. I’ll have to put it back, tonight. And another thing, we can’t do anything that might get her hurt.” He put his hand protectively on the cat’s head. “We can’t bring the law down on McClintock unless we know he won’t retaliate against her somehow.”

“No, you’re right,” Foggy said, sounding discouraged. He reached out and patted the cat’s back. “How did you ever get into this mess?” he asked her. She looked at him, and mewed. He smiled. “Yeah, I know. I’m sure you wish you could tell us, even more than we wish we could hear the story. We’ll all have to wait until we figure out how to help you.”

“If we haven’t figured it out by the time we have to leave here,” Matt said, “we can talk to Brett and ask for his help. But I don’t think we should bring him in yet. We need to think this through carefully.”

Foggy nodded.

“Is that everything we need to know from the book?” Matt asked the cat. She licked his hand. “Then I’d better put it back. Can you help me get it back in the right spot?” She licked him again. “Good. Then let’s go.” Foggy handed him the book, and the cat led the way out the door.

* * *

When they got back, Matt sat down on his bed and the cat hopped up beside him.

“You’re welcome to stay the rest of the night here, if you want to,” he told her. He reached out to rub behind her ears, but then stopped abruptly and pulled back. “I didn’t think,” he said. “You’re a woman, I shouldn’t just touch you or pick you up whenever I want, that isn’t right.” 

She climbed into his lap and butted her head against his chest, mewing imperatively.

Foggy laughed. “I think she likes it, Matt. I wouldn’t worry.”

Matt stroked her back hesitantly, and she stretched up to put her front paws on his shoulders, rubbing her cheek against his jawline. He smiled, and picked her up, holding her to his chest with one arm and petting her with the other hand. She began to purr like a small outboard motor.

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?” he asked, and she licked his neck.

Then a new thought struck him. “Last night,” he said to her. “I wondered why you would try to climb up the house, weighed down like you were. Were you trying to get _here?_ Were you coming to us for help?” She licked him.

Matt turned to Foggy. “She came to us, a couple of strangers, rather than any of the household staff.” His face was distressed. “Does no one here care about you?” he asked her. She bowed her head. He stroked a finger gently along her cheek. “A human mind, stuck in a cat’s body,” he said softly, “forced to live with the one who did this to you, with no friends, no kindness from anyone. It’s _wrong,_ ” he concluded, anger rising against McClintock, against Vladimir, against anyone else in this house who might have hurt her.

“I wonder how long she’s been like this?” said Foggy. “I guess she can’t tell us, it’s not a yes-or-no question.”

Well, she could try. Karen lifted one paw and tapped Matt’s shoulder twice.

“What is it?” he asked, thinking she was just trying to get his attention.

She tried again, placing her paw with deliberation, once, twice.

“You’re trying to tell me something, I get that,” he said. “But what?”

She gave two short mews, and patted him again. Once, twice.

“Oh!” he said. “Two? Are you trying to answer Foggy’s question?” She licked him.

“Two,” said Foggy. “But two what? Not days, obviously. Weeks?” Karen kept still, and looked at him. “Months?…Years?”

She mewed mournfully, and gave Matt a small, sad lick, since Foggy was out of her reach.

“Two _years?_ Shit.” Foggy climbed out of his bed and came to sit beside Matt, so he could pat her head, very gently. She licked his fingers gratefully. “You must have friends, family, who have no idea what’s happened to you,” he said. “You must have had a whole life, before this. God, this is horrible.”

“We’re going to help you,” said Matt. “I don’t know how, but we’ll think of something.” She could hear the determination in his voice, and the anger. It warmed her heart, and she tucked her head under his chin and snuggled into his embrace, feeling comforted.

“That’s right,” Foggy agreed. “We’re with you. It’s not going to be easy,” he added to Matt, “seeing McClintock in the morning and treating him just the same as we did before we knew all this. I kind of want to punch him.”

“I do, too,” said Matt grimly. “Hopefully we can get him arrested instead. But until we have a plan, we have to let him think everything’s going his way.”

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Foggy assured him. “I just won’t like it. He seemed so nice. So _honest._ ”

“That’s what he wants us to think,” said Matt. He sighed. What had begun as simply helping a mistreated animal had suddenly become much more complicated. He and Foggy were swimming in strange, deep waters. But there could be no question of not helping this woman. They didn’t know why McClintock had transformed her, but it hardly mattered—nothing could justify taking her life away from her and confining her here. His own actions condemned him.

He thought about what they knew about her so far, about what sort of person she was. It took courage to approach strangers and ask for help; it took intelligence to figure out how to tell them what she needed them to know. And he was certain now that she had deliberately tripped Vladimir to protect him. It was enough to make him want to know more. He hoped he would get the chance.

She was relaxed now in his arms, and he felt her mouth open wide in a yawn. “Ready for bed?” he asked her, and she licked his neck.

Foggy patted her head one last time, then went back to his own bed and turned off the lamp. Matt got under the covers and lay down, and she curled up beside him.

Karen felt exhausted, but happier than she had been for the last two years. Finally, _finally_ someone knew the truth. And they were kind, good people, who wanted to help her, and were willing to cross McClintock to do it. And they knew a police mage! She had tried to live without hope, but now hope flared to life once more, strong and bright. She drifted off to sleep with her head on Matt’s pillow, her paws resting on his shoulder.

* * *

The next day passed uneventfully. Karen slipped out the window in the morning, to spend another day keeping out of everyone’s way and avoiding notice. Matt and Foggy did their work, and were as pleasant to McClintock as before, although it took some effort.

Once during the afternoon, Matt suddenly sat up a little straighter, his face taking on an abstracted look. A moment later he continued working, but Foggy saw a smile cross his face that was in no way justified by the dry, tedious documents before them.

A little later, when McClintock stepped out to make a phone call, Matt got up and went quickly to the open library windows. Foggy followed curiously, but before he could say anything Matt spoke, his face turned toward a large planter on the terrace outside.

“I have an idea,” he said clearly. “Come and see us tonight.”

The planter made no reply that Foggy could hear, but Matt smiled, and went back to his seat at the table.

* * *

After dinner, when they were alone in their room, Foggy asked, “You thought of something?”

Matt’s face lit up. “I know how we can find out her name,” he said. “She can tell us. When she gets here—“ He broke off, listening. “Here she comes now,” he said, and a moment later there was a soft thump from the bathroom as a small cat jumped from the windowsill to the floor. She padded out into the bedroom, alert and eager, and Matt went to meet her.

“Hi,” he said, crouching down and holding out a hand to her. She rubbed her cheek along his fingers, then put her front paws on his knee, looking up at him expectantly.

“Tonight you’re going to tell us your name,” he said. “Come and sit down, and I’ll tell you my idea.”

He went and sat in an armchair, and she followed him and hopped up into his lap.

“We’ll spell it out, letter by letter,” he explained. “You’ve already got a clear signal established for _yes,_ ” he held out his hand, and she licked it. “So I’ll go through the alphabet, and you say _yes_ when I get to the right letter.”

Karen purred loudly, her whole body vibrating with approval. The hope in her heart flared higher—this could actually work!

“Matt, that’s perfect,” said Foggy. “As long as her name’s pronounced like it’s spelled.” He sounded a little stunned. “God, we’re really going to do it. We’re actually going to break a transformation spell.”

“Not right away, we’re not,” Matt cautioned. “We still need to think this through.” He turned to the cat. “Do you think McClintock will know when the spell gets broken?”

She sat silent, not knowing the answer. 

He sighed. “You don’t know. Well, we can’t risk him catching us before we can get away from here. Who knows what he might do? I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave you like this any longer than necessary. But if you can wait a couple more days, we’ll have a much better chance of getting you out safely.”

“That’s right!” said Foggy. “McClintock has to go downtown for a meeting.”

Matt nodded. “He’ll be miles away from here, and surrounded by people he needs to make a good impression on. So even if he knows that the spell’s been broken, he won’t immediately be able to do anything about it, and we’ll have time to get away. Foggy, do you think Brett would come out here if we asked?”

“This isn’t his jurisdiction, Matt.”

“No, I know. But he’d be an ideal witness. If she changes back into a woman right in front of a police mage, then no one will be able to deny it. McClintock is bound to have defenders, maybe even among the local cops. There will be people who don’t want to believe it. But if Brett backs up our story, they’ll have to.”

“We have to get him out here, before he can witness anything,” said Foggy. “But Brett knows us, so he might actually listen to us. If we went to anyone else with this crazy story—no offense,” he said to the cat, “and no proof, we’d get nowhere fast. But if Brett will come out here, then _he’s_ our proof.”

Matt nodded. “And if he can’t come, or won’t, we’ll do it anyway. Breaking the spell is more important than proving McClintock’s guilt, we can’t waste the opportunity.” He paused then, and turned to the cat doubtfully. “We should have asked you this sooner, but do you _want_ to report him to the police? I was assuming you would, but maybe you just want to get away from him. We don’t want to put you in more danger.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” said Foggy. “McClintock’s going to assume we’ve gone to the police, and act accordingly. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to keep this person here, and unable to tell her story, how pissed off do you think he’s going to be about losing her? We’re all going to be in danger if we can’t get him locked up.”

Karen licked Matt’s hand.

“You agree?” he asked her. “You want to report him?” She licked him again. “All right, good. Foggy’s right, we don’t have much choice, but I wouldn’t like doing it against your will. If we don’t have Brett, Foggy and I can still be witnesses to the breaking of the spell. Or at least,” he added drily, “Foggy can. They’re not going to pay much attention to a blind man. But we’ll both tell the cops everything we know.”

Karen mewed, wishing she had a better way to express her gratitude that these two men were willing to put themselves in danger to help her. Well, if this worked, she would be able to speak again very soon. Time to get on with it. She head-butted Matt in the chest, then sat and looked up at him, waiting.

“Let me get a pen and paper before you start spelling,” said Foggy, opening his briefcase. “If this gets long, we don’t want to lose track.”

When he was ready, Matt began slowly reciting the alphabet. Karen licked him when he reached _K_ , and Foggy wrote it down.

Once they had spelled out _K A R E N_ , Matt paused. “That’s the end of your first name?” he asked, to be sure. She licked him. “Let’s not say it,” he said to Foggy, “Just in case. We don’t want to trigger anything prematurely.” 

“Good idea,” Foggy agreed.

“Pronounced like it’s spelled?” he asked her. “Rhymes with Sharon?” She licked him again.

They continued, spelling out _P A G E,_ and then Karen reached up and put a paw over Matt’s mouth.

“Stop there?” he asked. “Is that the end?”

She licked him.

“Pronounced like the ones in a book?”

Another lick.

Matt smiled. “That’s it, then,” he said with satisfaction. “We’ve got it, we know your name!”

Karen stretched up to her full height, put her front paws on either side of his face, and touched her nose to his. He picked her up and hugged her, and she snuggled into his arms, purring. But after a minute she jumped down and ran to Foggy, not wanting to leave him out. She hopped into his lap and stretched up, butting her forehead against his jaw, and he laughed and petted her.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he told her. She purred and butted him again. “I’d better call Brett now, before it gets late,” he said, reaching for his phone. Karen subsided into his lap and listened intently as he made the call.

“Brett? It’s Foggy. I’ve got a, uh, a situation that we could really use your help with.”

“Uh-huh.” Brett sounded skeptical. “What kind of situation, exactly?”

Foggy paused, wondering how best to approach the subject. “It’s complicated. It involves a magical crime, but we have to be careful so the victim isn’t endangered further.”

“I’m listening.”

“Can you come out to the Grove, day after tomorrow?”

“That’s out of my jurisdiction, you know that.”

“I know. We want you as a witness. We’re afraid the local police won’t believe us. It’s a crime that hasn’t come up in a long time, and the perp is a real stand-up guy, the type people don’t want to believe anything bad about. But if you see it with your own eyes, they’ll have to listen to you.”

“And what is it I’ll be seeing, exactly?”

Foggy took a deep breath. “Human transformation,” he said. “We want you to witness the breaking of the spell, when she turns back into a woman.”

There was a silence.

“You’re serious,” Brett said finally.

“And you’re proving my point. If we take this to the local precinct, with no proof, they’ll just laugh at us. I’m not asking you to do a thing but come out here and watch—we know how to break the spell—and then tell the police here what you saw. We’re not asking you to take our word for it, we’re asking you to come here so we can prove it to you.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Murdock?”

“Right. We’re out here for work. It’s a long story.”

“Why the day after tomorrow, if you already know how to break the spell?”

“Because the mage won’t be here then. And she—the victim—can’t leave the premises until the spell is broken, so we have to do it here. So that’s when we can do it without him catching us. I hope. Will you come?”

Brett sighed. “It sounds crazy. But you already knew that. Yeah, I’ll come. If you’re right, if this is an actual case of human transformation, I want to nail the bastard who did it. Where, and when?”

Foggy gave him the address, and told him what time McClintock’s meeting was. “It might be better if you aren’t too conspicuous.”

“I’ll bring a plain car, and park down the block. You let me know when it’s showtime, and I’ll walk over.”

“Okay, Thanks, Brett, I owe you.”

“That’s what you always say. Some day, I may try and collect all those debts.” He rang off, and Foggy put down his phone.

Karen stretched up, put her paws on his shoulders, and licked his cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

She slowly blinked her eyes at him, then jumped down and returned to Matt. She liked and trusted both men, but she had a special affection for Matt, and she felt a deep sense of security and happiness when he was holding her. She hopped up into his lap and mewed, and he cupped her face gently between his hands and stoked her cheekbones with his thumbs. She closed her eyes and purred contentedly.

Matt was starting to think that the cat—that _Karen_ —was touch-starved, not just lonely. And why wouldn’t she be, after two years in this house? He felt a powerful wave of sympathy. He remembered his own childhood, how little affectionate touching he had gotten after his father died, and how hard it was to live without it. They knew next to nothing about this mysterious woman, but his heart went out to her nonetheless.

When they went to bed that night, she crawled right under the covers and sprawled out next to him. He lifted his arm to make room for her, and she plastered herself against his side. He stroked her head and said, “Good night,” and she purred in response. He smiled and curled his arm around her, and they both fell asleep.

* * *

The next night, they worked out the details of their plan. They would get as close to the edge of the property as Karen was able to go before breaking the spell, so that none of the household staff could stop them if they happened to see what was going on. It would also allow Brett to observe without coming onto the property, which could end up being an important detail if McClintock went to trial.

They would make their escape as soon as the spell was broken, so Matt and Foggy needed to decide how much to carry with them. To walk out carrying all their luggage would cause questions if they were seen, but their laptops and various papers and paraphernalia could be carried in their briefcases. Hopefully they could get the rest of their things back later, but if not, clothing could be replaced. The most important thing was to get away safely.

They decided against bringing the spell book with them, not knowing what safeguards McClintock might have put on it. If everything went as they hoped, the police could pick it up later.

They all felt anxious, now that it was almost time. They had planned as much as they could, and now they simply had to wait.

Karen spent the evening with Matt and Foggy in their room, but she was nervous and jumpy, prowling the room restlessly. She couldn’t help fearing that they would be caught, that something would happen to wreck their careful plans. After two years, when every feeble hope she’d ever had had been dashed, it was hard to believe they could actually succeed.

When she heard Vladimir’s voice outside in the yard, she darted under Matt’s bed and hid there, her heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” asked Foggy, who had the least acute hearing in the room.

“Vladimir,” said Matt, turning his head to listen. “He’s outside. He’s not talking about any of us, I think she’s just afraid of him on principle.” Matt’s face was grim. “He’s hurt her, or tried, twice just in the time since we’ve been here. Who knows what he’s done in two years?”

“Maybe we can get him arrested, too,” suggested Foggy.

Karen considered that from her spot under the bed. She didn’t know if Vladimir had committed any illegal acts himself, although it wouldn’t surprise her if he had. But he knew McClintock had transformed her, and knew about the sabotage he had committed as well. That made him an accessory, didn’t it? It was a comforting thought, and she crept to the edge of the bed and peeked out.

Foggy saw two blue eyes peering out from under the edge of the bedspread, and smiled at her. “Come on out, he’s not going to hurt you here.” He glanced at Matt. “You’d know if anyone was coming toward this room, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Matt answered, with such confidence that Karen came out and resumed her prowling. “We’re all nervous,” he told her. “I kind of wish I had a punching bag, to burn some of it off.”

A punching bag? She stopped in front of him and mewed questioningly.

He smiled. “My dad was a boxer,” he said. “He used to take me to the gym with him, when I was little. I can throw a pretty good punch, even if I can’t see what I’m hitting.”

Karen was intrigued. How did the son of a boxer end up becoming a lawyer? And what about Foggy? She walked over to him and mewed.

Foggy wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking, but he was happy to tell her about himself. It was only natural that she’d be curious about the people she was trusting herself to.

“I’m no boxer,” he told her. “My parents own a butcher shop. I could have been a butcher, but I wanted to be a lawyer instead. That’s how Matt and I met, we were roommates in college.”

He began telling her stories of their college days, and Matt joined in. It was a good way to pass the time, and they all found themselves relaxing a little. Karen stopped her pacing, and curled up in Matt’s lap. She watched their faces as they talked and laughed, feeling the powerful bond of friendship between them. It woke a longing in her heart, to be a part of that bond, to keep these men in her life and to be a part of theirs.

Up until now she hadn’t dared to think of what she would do, what sort of life she would have, once the spell was broken. But she knew now that whatever her new life was like, she didn’t want to lose them. She wished she could speak, to join in their talk, to laugh with them.

Of course, they knew nothing about her. She felt a pang of doubt. They were willing to help her, to right an injustice, but would they want to get to know her, once she was human again? She stretched up to put her paws on Matt’s shoulders, and he immediately picked her up and cuddled her against his chest. She tucked her head under his chin and pressed her nose into his neck, reassured.

He couldn’t be planning on walking away and abandoning her, after showing her such care and affection. She snuggled closer, purring, and he stroked her back, his hands gentle and warm. She breathed in the smell of him, familiar already after only a few days, and listened to his voice and Foggy’s, and allowed herself to hope.

* * *

It was hard to leave them in the morning. She didn’t want to let them out of her sight, but she knew they couldn’t afford to arouse McClintock’s suspicions today, of all days. She slipped reluctantly out the window, and resigned herself to an anxious morning.

Matt and Foggy joined McClintock in the library after breakfast, as usual. Never had it been so difficult to act as if everything were normal. Never had the time crawled by so slowly. But after working steadily for a couple of hours, McClintock finally prepared to leave. He was meeting a colleague for lunch before the meeting, and planned to be back late in the afternoon.

Once the car was safely on its way, Matt went to the library window. He could hear Karen outside on the terrace, hiding behind the same large planter she had used the other day. Her heart was beating rapidly.

“We’ll go after lunch,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear him. “We don’t want to disrupt the routine of the house, and we want to give McClintock time to get well away from here. With any luck, no one will pay any attention to us once we’ve eaten and come back here.”

Karen mewed softly in reply, and settled down to wait.

* * *

After lunch, Matt and Foggy returned to the library and packed up their briefcases. Foggy had gotten a text from Brett confirming that he had arrived, and was parked just down the block. Matt went to the window and told the planter, “It’s time, we’re coming out,” and heard an answering mew.

They made their way through the house quietly, Matt listening intently to make sure they didn’t run into anyone on their way out. Once outside in the yard, he relaxed a little. All the people in the house had jobs to do, and right now they were doing them. It was the perfect time to walk out unnoticed, while everyone was busy and paying the yard no attention.

Karen came slinking through the grass to join them, walking beside Matt as they crossed the lawn toward the quiet street. Matt kept his attention on the house, listening for any sign that they’d been noticed, or that anyone else might come outside.

He was so focused on the house behind them that he failed to notice the heartbeat in front of them, until suddenly an accented voice asked, “Going somewhere?” and Vladimir stepped out from behind a bank of shrubbery.

They stopped short. Matt sucked in a startled breath. Karen crouched low in the grass, her eyes dilating. Foggy tried to stay calm, but his heart was pounding. “Shouldn’t you be downtown?” he asked. But he knew—they all knew—they weren't going to be able to talk their way past Vladimir.

“I stayed behind to keep an eye on things. A sensible precaution when there are strangers in the house, don’t you agree?” His tone was relaxed and mocking. “And you,” he continued, his eyes fixing on Karen. “You should know by now that you aren’t going anywhere.”

Karen arched her back and hissed, determined that this time, she wasn’t going to run like a coward.

“We don’t have time for this,” Matt muttered. But a part of him, the part that had been wanting to fight Vladimir for days, was suddenly elated. He handed his briefcase and his glasses to Foggy and smiled, showing all his teeth. “You think you can stop us?” he asked, low and dangerous.

Vladimir, it seemed, had also been itching for a fight, and had no compunction about punching a blind man. He charged at Matt without another word. Matt was ready for him. There was a flurry of punches and kicks, while Foggy leapt back out of the way. They were grappling so closely that Karen hesitated to leap into the fray, fearful of hurting the wrong man by mistake.

Foggy saw her tensed for action, and pulled her back with him. “Matt’s got this,” he told her. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll help. What you need to do right now is stay out of Vladimir’s reach. If he gets his hands on you, we’re sunk.”

Karen made an unhappy sound, but she knew he was right. She burned to attack Vladimir, both to defend Matt and to pay him back for his treatment of her, but it was too risky. She moved away from the fight and got behind Foggy, crouching down, ready to spring away to safety if it looked like Vladimir might come her way.

But there was no need. As she and Foggy watched breathlessly, Matt knocked Vladimir’s legs out from under him and threw him to the ground. His head struck a gnarled tree root sticking up through the grass, and he lay still.

Matt stood panting, loosening his necktie. “It’s all right,” he told them, “He’s out cold.”

Karen distrusted Vladimir, but Matt sounded so certain that she hurried back to his side, keeping well clear of the unconscious man. Foggy followed, and together they walked quickly to the edge of the yard.

“We need Brett, now,” Matt said, but Foggy already had his phone out. While he made the call, Matt knelt down and held out his hands to Karen. “You wanted to fight him, too, didn’t you?” he asked. He was still breathing heavily, and blood trickled from a split in his lip, but he was smiling.

She sprang lightly up onto his knee, and he picked her up and hugged her. “That was brave,” he said, “But I’m glad you stayed out of it. I want you to be safe.” Karen felt too anxious to purr, but she put a paw on his cheek and licked at the blood on his chin.

A man in a police uniform came walking quickly down the sidewalk, stopping when he reached them. He looked past Matt and Foggy and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a man sprawled on the ground behind them, but he made no comment.

“Hey, Brett,” Foggy greeted him. “We better do this quick, before our buddy Vlad wakes up.”

Matt nodded and stood up, setting Karen down gently at his feet. “All right. You ready?” he asked her. She mewed loudly. She had never been more ready for anything in her entire life.

“Brett?” he asked.

“I see her, Murdock. I’m watching. Do it.”

Matt turned back to Karen, and took a deep breath. “Karen Page,” he said clearly. “Karen Page, _Karen Page!_ ”

He felt a subtle vibration in the air in front of him, like nothing he had ever felt before.

Foggy and Brett found it suddenly hard to focus their eyes on the cat, the space around her warping and distorting.

Karen stood frozen in place, unable to move, all her fur standing on end as her skin rippled and shivered. And then she was being pulled apart, her small body expanding in an instant to human proportions. Her agonized cry of pain began as a cat’s yowl and ended as a woman’s shriek, as the world around her sprang into vivid color. Dizziness seized her as she tried to balance on two legs. She could move again, she stumbled and would have fallen, but Matt caught her.

She was shaking all over, her breath coming in pained gasps, and Matt wrapped his arms around her and held her upright. His hands touched bare skin, and he realized she was naked.

“Oh,” he said blankly. “We never thought about clothes for you!”

“Clothes can wait,” she said fiercely. “First, I’m getting _out_ of here!”

“Of course,” he said hurriedly, and helped her take the few steps needed to leave the yard. Foggy took off his coat, and once they reached the sidewalk he helped her to put it on while Matt continued to support her and hold her steady.

She managed to do up the buttons herself—god, she had _fingers_ again!—and the coat was long, covering her nearly to the knees. Good. She didn’t have much body modesty after two years as a cat, but she still didn’t want to flash the whole neighborhood. Also, she had just lost all her fur, and she was shivering in the light breeze.

“Brett, where’s your car?” Matt asked.

“Just down the block.” He led them to a nondescript four-door sedan.

Matt kept a supporting arm around Karen, and Foggy walked on her other side, ready to help if she stumbled as they hurried along the sidewalk. But she found her balance was growing steadier as they walked, and the dizziness had passed by the time they reached the car. They piled into the back seat, Karen in the middle, and Brett pulled away from the curb and headed for the nearest police station.

For a few minutes no one spoke, a stunned silence settling over them. Karen looked around her with wide eyes, staring at the view out the windows, at each of the men beside her, at her own hands. An overwhelming feeling of relief gripped her, but also a sense of unreality that made her afraid she might wake up at any minute and find that this was just a dream.

Suddenly gaining back the full range of color vision made the world seem technicolor, like the land of Oz. Her nose, on the other hand, hardly seemed to work at all. She sniffed deliberately, searching for smells, and quickly caught a familiar, reassuring scent. Matt had broken a sweat fighting Vladimir, and now, in the enclosed space of the car, she could smell him beside her. Without thinking, she turned toward him and leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder and breathing him in.

It startled him a little, but he shifted slightly to accommodate her. He touched her hand hesitantly, and she grasped his firmly.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. “When you changed, you sounded like you were in a lot of pain.”

She shuddered. “I was,” she said. “It felt like I was being ripped apart. It was like that the first time, too, when McClintock transformed me, only then I felt like I was being crushed. It’s awful.”

“How are you now?”

“Oh, better. Much better.” Her skin ached and throbbed all over, but it was mild compared to the transformation itself. “I kind of feel like all of me is one big bruise,” she admitted.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, concerned. “Should I not…?” He loosened his hold on her hand, but she tightened hers, pressing closer to him and reaching across with her other hand to grip his arm.

“No, don’t let go. Please. The ache should pass soon, it did the first time.”

“All right,” he said. It was no wonder if she wanted something, or someone, to hold onto, after finally being restored to her true self. He could only imagine what she must be feeling, and he was glad to give her whatever support or comfort she needed. He felt the tension in her body relax a little as she leaned on him, her heartbeat slowing, her breathing growing calmer. He reached out with his free hand to cover her hand on his arm, and she smiled against his shoulder.

“Miss Page,” said Brett from the front seat, “These two asked me to witness your disenchantment to aid the prosecution of the person who enchanted you. Are you willing to give a statement to the police against him?”

“Hell, yes,” she answered vehemently. “He’s done more that he should be prosecuted for, besides this, he’s responsible for the deaths of dozens of people, but I don’t know if I can prove it. He’s had plenty of time to make the documents I saw disappear.”

“He’s killed _dozens_ of people?” Brett asked, raising his eyebrows.

“According to him, he hasn’t killed anyone,” said Karen bitterly. “He used magic to sabotage several buildings downtown. Weakening the wiring, or the plumbing, or the structural supports. It was no fault of his, he said, that people happened to be inside when the buildings finally broke.”

Matt could hear her heartbeat increasing again. They could all hear the anger in her voice.

“Union Allied bought up the properties, cheap and easy, and McClintock got paid a nice bonus for each one. That’s why he turned me into a cat, because I found out.”

“How did you find out?” asked Matt curiously.

“I was his secretary. Someone sent me an email by mistake, that should have gone straight to him. Once I saw what it was, I couldn’t just ignore it, I had to find out the truth. He said it was _unfortunate_ that I didn’t just forward it to him and forget about it. He actually complained to me about the _nuisance_ of having to find a new secretary, once he’d gotten me out of the way!” 

Now that she could finally tell her story, the words poured out of her. “Vladimir wanted to kill me, but McClintock said they couldn’t afford another death. There were two other people who had already found out—Daniel Fisher, he worked in the legal department, and…I’ve forgotten the other, it was someone I never heard of. But they died. Danny was in a car accident, I don’t know about the other one.”

“Vladimir knew what McClintock did?” asked Matt.

“Yes. He was there when I was transformed, he stopped me from getting away while McClintock was writing his spell.” She shivered at the memory. “And he knew about the sabotage.”

“That’s the guy I saw taking a nap in the yard?” Brett asked.

“Vladimir Ranskahov,” said Karen. “McClintock’s personal security.”

“We’ll bring him in for questioning,” said Brett. “Where’s this McClintock right now?”

“Downtown, in a meeting.”

“My home precinct. I’ll make some calls, and have him detained. My captain's going to be interested in those sabotaged buildings, even if the transformation charge is out of our jurisdiction. Either way, he’s got a lot to answer for. You just tell the police everything you know, Miss Page, every detail you can remember, and leave it to us.”

“I can tell you where he keeps his spell book, too.”

“Better and better. If there’s one thing I love, it’s solid, unambiguous evidence. A mage’s spell book is a smoking gun, if he’s been up to no good.”

Karen sighed, and rested her head on Matt’s shoulder once more. “Thank you for coming out here,” she said to Brett. “I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job, Miss Page.” They drew up in front of the police station. “I’d love to know how you got these two on your side, when you couldn’t even talk. But first thing’s first.”

They all got out of the car, and walked into the station. Karen could walk normally now, but she held Matt and Foggy’s hands anyway.

Brett identified himself to the desk sergeant, and explained why they were there.

“Human transformation?” the sergeant asked skeptically.

“Saw her change back with my own eyes,” Brett told him.

“If you say so.” He went over to a closed door, knocked, and stuck his head in. There was an indistinct murmur of voices. Then the door opened, and a woman in plain clothes followed the sergeant back to the front desk.

“Sergeant Mahoney, I’m Detective Mercedes Knight.” Her eyes swept the three civilians behind him, noting Karen’s bare legs and feet. “You’re the one who was transformed?” she asked, briskly but not unkindly. And, Karen was relieved to note, with no skepticism.

“Yes. My name’s Karen Page.”

“All right. Come with me, Miss Page, and I’ll find you some clothes. Then I’ll hear what you have to say.”

“Just a moment, Detective,” said Brett. “She needs food and water, she’s still recovering.”

“And she was underfed when she was a cat,” Matt interjected. “Are you hungry, Karen?”

She hadn’t had time to notice until now, but suddenly she was ravenous. “I’m starving,” she said.

“Food first, then,” said Detective Knight, and led her away.

Brett made a phone call to his home precinct, informing his lieutenant what was going on and arranging to have McClintock detained.

Detective Knight returned a few minutes later. “While she’s eating,” she said to Brett, “Is there anything else I should know before I take her statement?”

“There’s someone you should bring in for questioning,” Brett told her. “Name of Vladimir Ranskahov. He works for the mage who transformed Miss Page.” He gave her McClintock’s address. “The mage himself is downtown this afternoon, I called it in to my lieutenant. We’ll bring him in, Miss Page accuses him of crimes committed there, as well as here.”

The detective raised her eyebrows. “Busy man,” she commented, and went off to dispatch officers to pick up Vladimir.

While she was busy, Karen came back out to the front, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and holding a bottle of water and Foggy’s coat. She handed the coat back to him with a smile. “Thanks, Foggy,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he answered. “I can’t believe it didn’t occur to us that you were going to need clothes.”

She shrugged. “We had a few other things on our minds. It’s fine, I’m so happy to have my human body back again I honestly don’t care if you saw it.”

Detective Knight returned then. “Ready, Miss Page?”

“Ready, Detective.”

“Good. Mahoney, you’re with us, so she only has to tell her story once. You two, wait here.”

Karen drew an anxious breath. She felt safer with Matt and Foggy, even in a police station. But Brett was their friend, after all, and Matt gave her a reassuring smile, so she forced herself to relax and followed the detective out a different door, leaving them behind.

Matt and Foggy sat down to wait, far enough from the front desk that they were out of earshot of the sergeant if they kept their voices down. Matt listened intently, following the sounds of Karen and the others.

“I can hear them,” he murmured to Foggy, as Karen began giving Detective Knight her statement. As he listened, his felt his admiration for her growing. He already knew that she was smart, and brave; her story proved what he’d suspected in the car, that she also possessed a fierce determination to see wrongdoing brought to justice. She burned with anger, not only for what McClintock had done to her, but for all the other deaths he had caused. Matt related the details to Foggy under his breath.

Once Karen had finished, Brett came out to get Matt and Foggy, and they told their part of the story. When they had finished, and Detective Knight had heard everything they could tell her, she sighed.

“My captain isn’t going to like this,” she told them. “McClintock’s a popular man, and very influential. But I am not about to let this go. I’ll push him, and make sure this doesn't get brushed aside. If your captain is willing to take action,” she said to Brett, “That may force mine to do the same.” 

Brett met her eyes and nodded.

She turned to the three civilians. “I’m done with you three, for now at least. Where will you be, if I need to talk to you again?”

Karen stared at Matt and Foggy, her heart sinking. She had no home, nowhere to go. She had been so caught up in more immediate concerns, she hadn’t had time to consider that fact until now.

But Matt spoke up quickly. “She can stay with me,” he told Foggy. “If that’s all right with you?” he added, turning to her inquiringly.

“Yes,” she said, relieved. “Thank you.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Brett offered. “It’s time I was getting back. I’ll keep in touch, Detective.”

Matt and Foggy gave her their phone numbers, and then they were free to go. Once they were outside, Karen turned to Matt. “Matt, thank you for taking me in. You’ve done so much for me already, I didn’t expect…thank you.”

She sounded a little lost, a little overwhelmed, and Matt felt an urge to gather her into his arms and hold her close. _She’s not a cat anymore,_ he reminded himself. She was herself again now, and free, not trapped and afraid and desperate. And after all, she hardly knew him, he shouldn’t presume. He settled for smiling at her warmly. 

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “We aren’t going to leave you to fend for yourself.”

“That’s right,” Foggy agreed. “I’d be willing to take you, too, but Matt’s got more space. Face it, Karen, you’re stuck with us.”

She smiled at them both, touched by their kindness. “I’m glad,” she said softly. They got into the car, and Brett headed for downtown.

Afternoon was fading now into evening, and Karen settled back between Matt and Foggy and relaxed, watching the city pass by through the windows. She was getting used to having her human eyesight back again, and her earlier sense of unreality had faded. But in its place was weariness. She was happy, happier than she’d been in years, but she was also exhausted.

Her transformation had been an immense physical shock; telling her story and answering Detective Knight’s questions had demanded concentration and mental focus that had sapped her remaining energy. She was content to sit quietly now, Matt and Foggy solid and comforting on either side of her. She smiled as they passed through parts of the city she recognized, sights she hadn’t seen in two years, and felt like she was finally coming home.

When they reached Matt’s building, Matt invited Foggy to come in with them. They said goodbye to Brett, and together the three of them climbed the stairs to Matt’s apartment on the top floor.

Matt noticed Karen’s lagging steps, and once they were inside he seated her in a comfortable chair and got her a glass of water.

She drank thirstily, then leaned back into the soft upholstery and sighed. “So,” she said, “Do you want to hear my story, now that I can finally talk again?”

Matt froze where he stood, abruptly faced with a quandary. Should he tell her there was no need, that he had heard everything she had told the detective? He kept his enhanced senses a secret from almost everyone. If this had been anyone else, he would never even consider telling her the truth. But he realized suddenly that he didn’t want to lie to Karen. He wanted her to know him as he truly was, with no deception. But could he trust her to keep his secret?

But even as the thought flashed through his mind, she continued: “Or could you hear me, when I was giving my statement at the police station? Just how strong is your hearing?”

Karen saw the guarded expression on Matt’s face give way to shock. Glancing at Foggy, she saw that he looked much the same. She went on, more uncertainly, “Is it a secret, your senses? Am I not supposed to know?”

Matt opened his mouth, closed it, and sank down onto the couch. Foggy sat down beside him, looking bemused.

“What do you know, exactly?” Matt asked carefully.

“Well, the first night you two were there, at the house, I heard you talking in your room,” she answered. “I was outside, on your balcony. You were talking about me, and Foggy said it was too bad understanding animals wasn’t one of your superpowers…” She looked from one man to the other. “And you said you didn’t have superpowers, just one sense that doesn’t work and four that work better than everyone else’s.”

Foggy glanced at Matt, who was silent.

“It _is_ a secret,” she said, watching him closely. “But, Matt, you weren't exactly trying to hide it from me.”

Matt thought back over the last few days, recalling everything he had done or said while Karen was with him. “I thought you were a cat,” he said, smiling wryly. 

She felt a little relieved by the smile. “I hope you don’t mind me knowing,” she said. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. And you don’t know…you have no idea how much it meant to me, to know that finally there was someone who wasn’t going to just accept whatever McClintock said about me, and forget me. That conversation I heard gave me the first hope I’d had in so long…”

Matt heard the distress in her voice as she continued. “I had tried before, you see, when there were visitors in the house. Tried to make them see that I wasn’t a true cat, by acting as un-catlike as I could. But it didn’t work. They just thought I was a really unusual cat. And then one of them told McClintock how I was acting.” She shuddered. “Once the guests had gone, he threatened to break my legs if I ever tried that again.”

“Shit,” Foggy muttered. Matt looked grim.

“ _Did_ you hear me, at the police station?” she asked Matt.

“Yes,” he admitted. “And I told Foggy what I heard.”

“You both know, then, that he couldn’t kill me. But he could hurt me, as badly as he wanted.”

Seeing their horrified looks, she quickly went on, “Oh, he didn’t. He just made sure I knew he was willing to, if I didn’t behave myself. As long as I didn’t piss him off, he ignored me.” She sighed. “But Matt, the fact that you were different was what convinced me to take the risk. Even before I heard you talking that night, I already wondered about you. After you knocked Vladimir down, when I was up in the tree, you knew right where I was, didn’t you? You smiled at me. I didn’t know what to make of it. So I came to your balcony on purpose to try and find out more about you.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Matt, making up his mind. “You’re right, I don’t tell people about my senses. Only Foggy knows, and he’s my closest friend. But if that’s what convinced you to ask us for help, then I’m glad you know the truth.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not mad, I don’t think I could take it after you’ve been so good to me.”

Matt felt again the urge to take her in his arms, and repressed it sternly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead. “I don’t know how much you had to eat at the police station, but it’s about dinner time.”

“I had a sandwich,” she answered. “And yes, I’m hungry.”

“I don’t have much food here, but we can get takeout. What would you like?”

“Anything,” she answered. “Honestly, everything sounds good to me right now.”

“How about that Thai place down the street?” Foggy suggested.

“Oh! Pad Thai,” she said, suddenly craving noodles. “That’s perfect.”

“I’ll go and pick it up,” Foggy offered, and once he and Matt had made their own choices, he left.

Left alone with Matt, Karen looked at him where he still sat on the couch. As comfortable as her chair was, she wished she were sitting next to him, pressed against his side as she had been in the car. Now that she had human arms and hands once more, she wanted to reach out and touch him, to put her arms around him and hold on, to feel his arms around her as they had been, all too briefly, when she had first transformed.

But after all, he barely knew her. And she wasn’t a cat anymore, she couldn’t very well go and jump into his lap.

She got up and took her glass across the room to the kitchen. Standing in front of the sink, she looked down at her body. Her human body, that a short time ago she had feared she would never see again. She hadn’t seen it in so long that it looked strange and unfamiliar. She pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder and examined the soft, blonde strands. She reached up and touched her face, feeling her cheekbones, her eyebrows. She shivered, and felt overwhelmed suddenly, a lump forming in her throat. So much had happened in just a few days!

Matt heard the hitch in her breathing, and came to stand beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to smile. “I’m fine, I’m good. Just…tired, I guess.” She leaned against the counter, thinking that _tired_ was an understatement. “It’s just, so much has changed, all at once, you know? It’s good, it’s amazing! But it’s a lot to take in. Today has been so busy, there were so many things we needed to do, it’s only now that I can really _stop,_ and catch my breath, and…try to absorb what’s happened. And it all just kind of hit me at once.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, his heart going out to her. “No wonder you’re tired.”

“And I can’t demand petting, like I did when I was a cat,” she said wistfully, remembering with an ache in her chest what a comfort it had been to curl up in his arms.

He looked surprised for an instant, but then he smiled. “Not _demand_ , no,” he said, “Not until we get to know each other better, anyway.” His tone was gently teasing, but there was something serious in his expression. “But you can ask.” He put a hand on her arm, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She leaned in and put her head on his shoulder. “Please,” she whispered, sighing with relief when his arms went around her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed deeply, already feeling better. She wasn’t small enough anymore to curl her entire body against his chest, but she still felt safe, and warm, and cared for. Their bodies fit together comfortably, easing the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Matt felt her relax against him, and rested his cheek on her bent head. They might not know each other very well yet, but he _wanted_ to know her. He wasn’t sure what _she_ would want, once she was recovered and ready to take back her life, but he was determined to help her as much as he could.

“Oh, this is what I wanted,” she murmured. “If I could still purr, I would be.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing.

“Yeah.” She shifted slightly, pressing her nose to his neck and breathing in the scent of his skin.

“I can smell you now,” she said. Matt thought she sounded pleased, which was…startling, a little. In his experience, most people considered it a bad thing to be able to smell each other.

“And that’s…good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She sounded very definite about it. “My sense of smell was much stronger when I was a cat, so when I was in your room I could always smell you. I liked it. But my human nose can’t smell you unless I get right up close like this.” She paused. “That sounds weird, doesn’t it? That I like how you smell?”

“Not to me, it doesn’t,” he assured her. “I can smell other people all the time, it’s part of how I recognize the people I know well. And…” he hesitated, because to most people, yeah, this would be weird. “…I like how you smell, too.”

He felt her smile, her face pressed against him. “Good. Then we can both be weird together.”

He laughed again. Having the senses of a cat wasn’t the same as what he had, of course. But still, she knew what it was like to smell more, and probably hear more, too, than normal human senses would allow. It was a bond he had never thought he would share with anyone, and it made him unexpectedly happy.

He wanted to question her, to ask what her cat-senses had been like, but she was leaning heavily against him now, and he could almost feel her exhaustion.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asked.

“Can we keep doing this?” Her arms tightened their hold.

“Sure we can.”

“Okay then.” He kept an arm around her as they walked back to the living area, and steered her to the couch. He sat down, and she arranged herself in his lap, shifting around to find the most comfortable position. She ended up turned sideways, sitting between his legs with her own legs curled up, slumping down so she could rest her head on his shoulder once more. 

He wrapped his arms around her, and she stuck her nose under his jaw and pressed her face into his neck. It was so like what she had done as a cat that without thinking, he raised a hand to her head and stroked his fingers through her hair. She made a soft, pleased sound, so he did it again.

“You should probably go to bed early tonight,” he said. She yawned, which he took for agreement. “I’d put you to bed now, only I really think you should eat something first.”

“Yeah,” she agreed sleepily. “Food first. Or, no,” she corrected herself. “Petting first. Food when Foggy gets back. Then bed.”

Matt smiled, and kept stroking her hair, running the tips of his fingers over her scalp. She made a sound that he thought must be the human equivalent of a purr, and relaxed completely, going limp and boneless against him.

“Tomorrow…” she began, and stopped, realizing that she had no idea what would happen tomorrow. She had no home, no job, and everything she had owned two years ago was surely gone. McClintock had destroyed everything she had carried with her on the day he transformed her; everything in her apartment must have been disposed of by the landlord once the apartment was declared abandoned.

A spike of distress pierced her sleepy contentment. She had nothing, except for the goodwill of two men she had just met a few days ago, who had only properly met _her_ a few hours ago.

Matt sensed her uneasiness. “Tomorrow,” he said, after waiting to see if she was going to finish her thought, “Tomorrow, we start getting your life back. You’ve got two lawyers on your side, we’ll find out what you need to do to re-establish your identity.”

A part of his brain was already planning what steps they should take first, thinking about everything she would need. But most of him was content to wait until morning. “You don’t have to worry about tomorrow right now,” he told her. “We’ve got your back. Right now, all you need to do is rest, and recover.”

She sighed. “Thank you,” she whispered. It was heartfelt, but hardly seemed adequate to everything she owed him. “If it weren’t for you…” she began, but stopped, a lump rising in her throat again. She couldn’t bear to think what the rest of her life would have been like, if she had remained a cat forever. A wave of pain and relief and happiness brought tears to her eyes, and this time she let them come.

She cried quietly, while Matt rubbed her back and murmured reassurance. “You’re safe now, Karen, it’s all right. It’s all over now. Everything’s going to be all right…” His voice washed over her, low and soothing, and she smiled through her tears. She wasn’t alone. She wouldn’t be alone, whatever tomorrow might bring, and the day after that. Her whole future lay ahead of her, filled once more with possibility.

Her tears eased, and she heaved a deep sigh and relaxed again.

“Go ahead and take a nap, if you want to,” said Matt, his lips brushing the top of her head. “I’ll wake you when Foggy gets back.”

“Mmmmkay,” she answered indistinctly, and snuggled deeper into his embrace. He rested his cheek against her hair, and listened as her heartbeat gradually slowed, her breathing growing deeper. His heart was full with emotion that he wasn’t yet ready to try and analyze. For now, it was enough to sense her drifting off to sleep in his arms, to know that she would be here with him tomorrow. They had time, now, for whatever the future might bring.

* * *

When Foggy returned, he found the apartment strangely quiet. Coming into the living area, he stopped short at the sight of Matt and Karen wrapped up in each other on the couch.

Karen appeared to be sleeping, traces of tears on her cheeks, the fingers of one hand curled loosely into the fabric of Matt’s shirt. Matt’s arms were around her, and his face wore a soft expression which turned into a smile as he turned his head toward Foggy.

Foggy set the takeout bag on the table. “Everything all right?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Fine,” said Matt, just as quietly. “The day just caught up with her, that’s all.” He turned back to Karen, and squeezed her hand. “Karen?” he said. “Karen, wake up, Foggy’s back.”

She opened one eye. “Hi, Foggy,” she said, smiling sleepily.

He smiled back, and began taking containers of food out of the bag and opening them up.

“Hi, Karen. You look comfortable.”

“I _am_ comfortable,” she said contentedly. “Matt has a very comfortable lap.” The smell of Thai food drifted toward her, and her stomach growled. “But I’m also _starving._ ”

She yawned, and uncurled herself into a long stretch, before climbing to her feet. Matt stood up after her, and she turned to give him a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

“Any time,” he whispered back.

She sat down at the table with Foggy, while Matt went to the kitchen for drinks.

“Beer?” he asked. 

“Please,” said Foggy.

“I think I’d better stick with water,” said Karen. “If I drink alcohol, I’m probably going to fall asleep right here at the table with my face in a takeout box.”

Matt grinned, and came back with two beers and a glass of water. He sat down, and they ate their dinner, talking easily together. Karen thought about the night before, when she had listened to them talk and wished she could join in. She knew, now, that she wasn’t going to lose them, and the knowledge filled her with happiness. She was too tired, and too hungry, to talk much, but she basked in the feeling of _belonging._ She had made two firm friends, who were kind, and brave, and who cared about her as much as she cared for them.

There would be challenges and difficulties ahead, no doubt. She wasn’t ready to think about tomorrow too closely just yet. But the future was no longer something to dread.

In fact, for the first time in two years, she was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> While Karen is a cat, the following things happen to her: she is underfed, leaving her hungry much of the time; she is threatened verbally with violence, including the threat of being killed, and of having her legs broken; she is picked up and shaken, thrown away from a door (she lands on her feet and is not injured), forced down into a patch of mud and has mud rubbed into her fur, and is in danger of falling from a dangerous height. There are also references to her being mistreated, in unspecified ways.


End file.
